


Those Magic Changes

by Marzos



Series: That's Show Business [1]
Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/F, F/M, Hollstein - Freeform, Zeta Society - Freeform, drama teacher AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:29:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 61,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzos/pseuds/Marzos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carmilla had a girlfriend, a degree from NYU, and dreams of Broadway stardom. Now she's dumped and praying she can just pay back her student loans and get out of her old high school as fast as possible. But when her old mentor asks for her help directing the spring show, things get complicated. </p><p>(Hollstein AU where broke college grad Carmilla is forced to get a job as an English teacher and helps direct a production of Grease, starring her favorite student and aspiring actress Laura Hollis.) </p><p>(also: a love letter to high school theatre)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

“So, Miss Karnstein, you have an impressive degree.” The woman sitting in front of you leans in, lacing her fingers together. You nod.

“Well, thank you--”

“I’m not finished.” she replies sharply. She opens the manila envelope next to her, taking out your resume and shuffling it in her hands, then puts on the glasses that are hanging around her neck. She makes a show of looking down her nose at the paper.

`“Degree from New York University, correct?”

“Yeah, NYU.”

“With a partial scholarship. And your majors were vocal performance and philosophy. Am I still reading this correctly?”

“Yes,” you sigh, and the woman in front of you does the same. You saw this part coming.

“You understand why I’m a bit confused, then, when I saw that you applied to be an English teacher at my school.” The principal continues, “Especially considering your rather...turbulent history at Silas.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “Look, I know in high school I was a bit rebellious--”

“You ended your senior year by making a rude gesture at me from the back of your girlfriend’s motorcycle after you finished throwing a carton of eggs at my car,” the principal interrupts dryly, and you wince.

“…Okay, I was practically a terrorist. But, my point still stands that I graduated four years ago. I think college has really helped me to, uh, mature.” You also want to point out that it was _your_ motorcycle, Ell was just riding it, but that was probably not going to help matters.

“That may be true, Miss Karnstein, but that does not change the fact that you’re _not qualified to teach English_.”

“Look at my transcripts, I got all As in English. Not to mention, as I recall from going here, you’re always short on teachers, aren’t you?”

The principal raises an eyebrow, but leans back slightly in her chair. “Just one more question: Why, exactly, do you want to teach at Silas?”

You’d been practicing the answer in the mirror for days before this interview, but all thoughts of it go out the window. You’re tired, you’re embarrassed, and you’re _pissed_ at having to come back and grovel at this woman’s feet.

“I don’t want to, alright? I have to. I’m buried in student loans. My girlfriend I was with since sophomore year broke up with me and kicked me out of our apartment, leaving me homeless, and jobless since my degree _sucks_. Now I’m back here because I have three months to start paying them off and I knew you wouldn’t pass up the chance to say ‘I told you so’ to my face daily.” You stop. You pinch the bridge of your nose with your thumb.

“But, you already knew all of that. Didn’t you, Mother?”

Miss Morgan smirks, “Well Carmilla, you would be right. I wanted to hear you admit it.” She holds out a hand and you try not to let your skin crawl when you shake it. “You start tomorrow. And don’t expect any special treatment because you’re my daughter. I expect you to be professional now that you’ve given up that music nonsense.”

“Thank you, Mother,” you say, then you walk out. Your first stop is the bathroom. You don’t know exactly why, but you need to splash some cold water on your face.

As you look at yourself in the mirror, you remember four years ago, when you looked Ell in the eyes and promised that you’d both make it big in New York and never look back. Not at Silas, not at Silas High School, and not at your fucking homophobic mother.

Now you’re Mother’s new English teacher. Wearing the same power suit with your hair in a bun. Practically a clone.   
But, Ell also said she would love you forever and never leave you, so she lied to you first.

“ _Shiiit_ ,” you moan, and once you’ve put yourself together, you go home. You have a lesson plan to write, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Silas is a small town, which is reflected in the fact that there are only about a hundred kids in each grade of Silas High. Its football team was The Minotaurs, and the school colors, purple and black, were all over the school, which makes you feel like you’re inside a giant grape when you walk down the hallway the next morning.

“First day, _hooray_ ,” you mutter to yourself. You have a briefcase in hand and, from the looks on the kids’ faces, they’re not sure if you’re a teacher or not. That, or they’re mistaking you for Mother. The thought annoys you. When you get to the end of the hallway, you turn around and announce, “You have five minutes to get to homeroom, _students,_ ” just to make it clear you mean business. There’s a good chance that you’ll have at least one Carmilla Karnstein in your class, and, if you’re going to survive, you know to put a hard line down right away.

To your pleasant surprise, the kids scramble. You may hate your mother, but she was right about the power suits.

Your room: English 113. You’d be teaching seniors in regular and honors courses the rest of the year. Then, you can hopefully get another job away from your mother. Something more pleasant, like garbage collector or crash test dummy.

“The bell rang, class has begun,” you announce, opening the door and walking in. The class falls silent.

You didn’t really prepare a speech. “...So. As you all know, Mrs. Cochrane was forced to retire due to failing health. I am Miss Karnstein, your English teacher for the rest of the year.”

A kid raises his hand and, without waiting, asks (more like states), “Aren’t you Principal Morgan’s daughter?”

Your jaw twitches. “Yes. I kept my father’s name when my parents divorced. And that’s the last I’m going to speak about my personal life.” You notice three girls sitting near the front whispering to each other. They settle down when you look at them.

“Okay,” you hop onto the desk, legs dangling off the edge. “Now, I know what you’re all thinking: young, obviously can’t have been a teacher that long. And I’ll be straight with you and say, you’re right. This is the first time I’ve stepped into a classroom. But, number one, any of you with siblings that went to school with me can tell you that I am not someone you want to mess with. Two, as your friend here pointed out, my mother is the principal, and I will not hesitate to take advantage of that.” You stretch your arms above your head, fingers laced together.

“Now, with that in mind, class rules are going to be kept simple. Give me no crap, get no crap from me. Got it?” The students nod hesitantly and your hands fall into your lap.

“So, who wants to tell me what you were doing before Mrs. Cochrane left?”

A girl raises her hand. She was the same girl that was whispering to the gingers on either side of her. Brunette was obviously a teacher’s pet.

“We’re about to start reading Macbeth.” She says, and you nod.

“Alright. Open your books. Who wants to read for the witches?”

The same brunette and her ginger friends raised their hands.

“Alright. Duncan?” No one else would raise their hands. “Well, if you won’t volunteer you’ll be voluntold.” You assign the parts and begin your first class.

You quickly decide that this job is worse than you imagined. The children read like they’re dead. It makes your inner thespian want to scream in frustration.

The only exception was brunette and the gingers. They got _really_ into the witches. If they weren’t in theatre, you’d be shocked.

The bell rings after the longest forty minutes of your life. “Alright, we’ll pick this up tomorrow. And can we try a little enthusiasm please, people? You’re reading Shakespeare, not a shopping list.” You call after their retreating backs.

“Hey, you three did a good job,” you say to the three girls playing the witches. They stop and look at you.

“Thank you, it was fun! Uh, I’m Laura,” she points to the other two, “And this is Danny and Perry.” She pauses. “Hey guys, I’ll be a second, alright? I’ll meet you in science.”

Danny and Perry look at each other, shrug, and walk out.

Laura looks at you and bites her lip.

“Got something you need to talk to me about?”

“I’m a huge fan,” Laura blurts out.

Your eyes widen. “Uh, what?”

“I’ve been going to shows at Silas since I was a little kid. I saw you in every show you did here.” She began counting off on her fingers, “As Maureen in Rent, and Louise in Gypsy, and when you were in The Mikado, and then when you were Eponine in Les Mis. You were really, really good. I want to be an actress too and, uh...yeah. It’s just really cool to meet you.” She blushes after her speech, smiling nervously. You’re not sure how to respond.

“Well, it’s nice that I made at least one fan,” you answer. “Thanks, kid.”

She grins. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Karnstein!” She gives a cheerful wave, almost dropping her books in the process, but recovers and walks out the door.

So that was what she was whispering to her friends about.

You’d had people from Silas recognize you from performances when you were in school, but you didn’t think anyone would recognize you after four years...or at least not care enough to tell you.

The next class files in. This time, there are no Lauras to make the reading less mind-numbing for you.

* * *

You have one free period during the day and you take advantage of it, going into the teachers’ lounge and brewing a pot of coffee. You don’t even wait for it to cool down before you pour a cup and down it in one gulp. It scalds your tongue, but you need caffeine, and you need it _now._

“Rough first day?” someone behind you asks.

“Tell me about it--,” you turn around, see her, and almost drop the coffee mug. _“Mrs. Spielsdorf?”_

She barely has time to open her arms before the cup is on the table and you’re giving her a hug.

“Carm, what brought my star student back to Silas?”

“What brings me back?” You shrug. “A healthy dose of reality.”  

“Ouch,” you both separate and Mrs. Spielsdorf winces sympathetically. “But, as selfish as this sounds, I’m glad you’re back. I was wondering if I would ever see you again...now, about that first day?”

“Mind-numbingly boring.” You pick the cup back up and take another sip. “I swear, getting those kids to read anything is like pulling teeth, and then they read like they’re zombies. I didn’t even have the heart to write up the kids that fell asleep. The only ones that read it well were the theatre kids. Some of them got really into it. Voices and everything.”

“I would hope my kids would,” Mrs. Spielsdorf answers.

“Still directing?”

“Of course. Even if your mother has been even harder on us now, if you can believe it.”

“ _Harder_? Seriously? I thought she would have let up after I left.”

“We got some grants for the theatre. Your mother isn’t happy about me turning Silas into an ‘art school.’”

You can’t help the snort that escapes your mouth. “I swear, she must think theatre is what made me a lesbian or something.”

“I don’t know about that, but she has blamed me for your ‘throwing your future away on a frivolous pastime.’ Thank God for tenure.”

You smile. “Honestly, she might be kind of right about that, Mrs. Spielsdorf. You were my role model.” In fact, if you could do your life over again, there is no doubt she’d be your mother. Even if she’s only thirty-five. She had done more for you and encouraged you more in four years than Mother had in twenty-two.

“You deserved one, Carmilla. You’re a rare talent.” She returns your smile fondly, giving you a friendly part on the shoulder. “And please, call me Betty now. We’re co-workers, remember?”

“Unfortunately, I guess we are.” You take a few more sips of coffee, and Mrs. Spielsdorf--Betty--is staring at you thoughtfully.

“...You know, if you still want to be involved with theatre,” she said, “I could use a little help with the program this year.”

“You mean like, directing? I don’t know Betty, I’m more of an onstage person, you know?”

“It wouldn’t be hard. You’d basically be doing what I tell you, and giving me feedback on performances.” She smirks, “You had no problem giving criticism when you were part of the cast.”

“Please. I had such a swelled head. I thought I was going to be a Tony Award winner by now,” you can’t help the bitterness that seeps into your voice.

“Now you have a degree. You’re qualified to give advice. Besides...we’re doing a show that’s right up your alley. If I recall, you _begged_ me to do it every year.”

Your eyes widen. “No. You mean…?”

Betty grins. “That’s right. We’re finally doing Grease!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carmilla meets the cast.

“You renamed it _‘The Lilita Morgan Art Center’?_ ” You stare at the placard above the entrance, mouth open in shock. There it is, in big letters: The Lilita Morgan Art Center. Betty crosses her arms and looks up as well.

“Do you like it?” Betty asks.

“I don’t know if I like my mother’s name attached to the only thing I liked about high school.”

“Oh, she doesn’t either.” Betty grins. “That’s why I said we should do it. We had a big ceremony after we redid the auditorium. Newspapers came and everything to watch Principal Morgan having a theater named after her. She couldn’t refuse without looking like a complete jerk. You can appreciate the irony at least?”

You smile. “Man, Betty, talk about passive aggressive.”

“When it’s your boss, that’s the only aggressive you can be. I do what I can to annoy her.”

Betty had always been the only teacher in the school not terrified of her. You think it had something to do with you being her favorite student. Many a lunch period was spent in the auditorium with her raging about your home life.

“Come on Carmilla, you need to meet the cast,” Betty motions for you to follow her, and you both walk in.

“Oh my God, Betty, how much money did you get from those grants?”

“Enough to replace the wood chairs with cushioned ones, repaint the walls, get new curtains for the stage, and then put on a production of Grease with what was left over.”

“Wow,” you breathe, “this place looks incredible now.”

“Well, you can thank my kids for that, they’re the real reason we got the grants--kids!” Betty clapped her hands. “Get on stage, I have a very important announcement to make!” Twenty kids get out of their seats and file onto the stage.

“How long have you guys been rehearsing?” you ask, as you both walk down the aisle to the front of the auditorium.

“Not long. We just cast the show a couple of weeks ago.”

The kids are all chattering excitedly and Betty holds up a hand. “ _Aaaand_ a hush falls over the crowd,” she says, and the cast falls silent.

“Alright guys, I am extremely excited to announce that we have a new member of the production team. All of the seniors have met her, because she is your new English teacher, but for those juniors and underclassmen that have not, this is Miss Karnstein.”

You give a little, casual wave. You see Laura next to Danny and Perry, and she looks surprised and excited.

“She will be helping me direct this year. Carmilla graduated with a degree in vocal performance from NYU…”

You see Laura’s jaw drop a little. Most of the other kids didn’t realize the significance of that school.

“...And she was one of my most dedicated students until she graduated four years ago. Carmilla, is there anything you’d like to add?”

“Not really. Just that I’m excited to see what you’ve done with the program since I left. Who are the leads?”

“Well, there’s Laura, playing Sandy,” Betty says, pointing to the brunette.

“Yeah, I definitely remember her,” you say. “She apparently remembers me.”

Laura smiles sheepishly and looks away.

“The ginger trio are playing the other Pink Ladies. Danny as Rizzo. Danny, Carmilla begged me to play Rizzo every year she was in high school. She’s seething with jealousy right now.”

Danny crosses her arms and looks at you with a smile. “Well, I hope you don’t mind watching me play your part?”

You decide you don’t like her.

“Susan--,” Betty stops, “I’m so sorry. _LaFontaine_. LaFontaine is playing Jan.”

Betty whispers into your ear, then you look at LaFontaine and say:

“Yeah, I can see _them_ playing Jan.” LaFontaine, who had been looking uneasy just a moment ago, now smiled. You may be a bit of an asshole, but there are certain things you’re good about.

“Of course, their friend, Lola Perry, is playing Frenchy. We call her Perry for short. Then, we have Will over there as Danny, and his best friend, Kirsch, as Kenickie. Laura over here roped them into it.”

“Which wasn’t easy, but worth it,” Laura interjected.

Kirsch looked over at the girls in the cast, “Yeah, definitely worth it.” Danny was giving him a death glare and Perry put a hand on her shoulder, silently urging her to calm down.

Betty continues going through the names of the cast members and you try and commit them to memory, but honestly, other than the leads, you’ll probably be getting the names wrong all the way up to opening night.

“With that out of the way, let’s get started. Carmilla, do you want to do the honors and start warm-ups?”

“Me? Uh, sure.” There’s a piano sitting slightly to the right of the stage, and you settle down in front of it. It had been awhile since you used this grand piano, but, the moment your fingers settle on the keys, it’s like greeting an old friend. “We do the same ones?”

“Of course.”

“Alright. _Aaaaaaaah_ …,” they repeat after you, going up the scale. You’re looking at the stage and you can already tell the leads have good voices. No, great voices. When you were at Silas, part of the reason you became a name around town was because most of the people in theater weren’t great. They got better every year (Betty started her first year at Silas High when you were a freshman), but there was only so much she could do with them.

You wonder if you would have thought you were so special if you went here now. Like a lot of things that crossed your mind today, the thought annoys you, and you focus on warm-ups.

“Okay, now we’re going to do an exercise that focuses on diction. _Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men, couldn’t put Humpty together again…_ ” The kids catch on. You go through it several times, making them go faster with every rendition. You notice that the cast has made up a bunch of dance moves to the words, led by Kirsch, Will, and Laura. Everyone erupts in a fit of giggles and Betty tries to calm them down.

“Guys!” Laura shouts, “Listen to Mrs. Spielsdorf.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You can feel the purity coming off of this goody-two-shoes in waves.

“Thank you, Laura.” Betty says, beaming at her. She cracks her knuckles. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

They started working on the first scene of the show, which meant that the Pink Ladies, including Laura, Danny, LaFontaine, and Perry, and the Burger Palace Boys, including Will and Kirsch, had nothing to do onstage for most of the rehearsal.

You notice that the two groups are leaving a few seats between them. Oh God, there wasn’t a _literal_ rivalry going on, was there? Danny and Kirsch were still giving each other the death glare when he bumped into her trying to walk into the row of seats. Everyone else stared at them until they finally, slowly, averted their gazes and sat down on opposite ends.

Even if you have the title of assistant director, you’re still not really feeling like one yet so you sit down in the row across from them. You’re kind of curious, considering that Rizzo and Kenickie wanting to murder each other couldn’t be good for stage chemistry. You lean over--Laura was sitting in the aisle seat across from you--and whisper: “Hey, what is their problem?”

Laura isn’t paying attention. She’s staring at the stage, listening to Betty giving notes and blocking, hands folded in her lap. She looks absolutely fascinated.

“Hey, Sandra Dee,” you snap your fingers, and she snaps out of her trance.

“I’m sorry, did you need something, Miss Karnstein?”

“What is their problem?”

“Who, Danny and Kirsch?”

You nod. Laura glances at her friend and bites her lower lip.

“Well, Danny started the first girl’s football team in school. She wanted to join Kirsch’s team, but Kirsch is captain and he didn’t want a girl on the team. Which, understandably, made Danny mad.”

“I can’t blame her for that.”

“Kirsch really isn’t _bad._ ” Laura clarifies, “He doesn’t mean to be a raging misogynist or anything, he’s honestly just ignorant. In his mind, I think he was protecting her. So, Danny started her own club for girls’ athletics and made her own football team. They challenged Kirsch’s. And won.”

Your eyes widen. You fight the urge to whistle. “That is impressive.”

“Kirsch thought they didn’t need a strategy because they were bigger. Danny and Kirsch have been bitter rivals ever since. Mrs. Spielsdorf is convinced she can get them to work together, but…”

“Well, Kenickie and Rizzo hate each other for a lot of the show, so…”

Laura laughed a little. “Yeah. So…you wanted to be Rizzo, huh?”

“Yeah?”

“I would have paid to see that.” Laura seems to lose her nerve, mutters ‘thanks for the conversation’ and looks back at the stage with that same engrossed look she had before.

* * *

 

“So, what do you think?” Betty asks. You’re both cleaning up after the rehearsal, making sure that no one forgot to throw out trash. Mother went over the auditorium periodically with a fine toothed comb and, if there was so much as a crumb, she would blame the theater kids for it.

“They’re good,” you admit, reaching under a seat and pulling out another water bottle from where the guys were sitting. You make a mental note to talk to them about it later. “You know how to find people.”

“Oh, I didn’t find most of them. Laura convinced her friends to do theater with her. Then, like I said, this year she roped Will and Kirsch into it.”

“Well, if she doesn’t make it as an actress, she’ll be one hell of a casting director,” you reply flippantly, and Betty pauses in her cleaning with a frown. You raise an eyebrow at her.

“I didn’t hit a nerve, did I?”

“...She really is talented you know. She reminds me a _lot_ of you.”

“Me? You’re kidding, right? She couldn’t be less like me if she tried.”

“I’m talking about the _passion_. And the dedication. She has that _quality_ , you know?” Betty sits in one of the seats, and you hop onto the stage.

“Come on, Betty, you obviously want to talk. You listened to enough of my crap during high school. Spill it.”

Betty looks at you, and she sighs at last. “Do you know why I went into teaching?” She doesn’t wait for you to answer, obviously.

“I wanted to work with kids that would go on to be the next Sutton Foster or Norbert Leo Butz. Most of these kids do it as a hobby. And kids from small towns like this are going to have an even harder time in an industry that’s already an uphill battle.”

“It’s practically a vertical rock climb,” you agree, “and you don’t get any equipment.”

“Exactly. But, then I got you as a student. I couldn’t believe my luck getting someone like you in my first year of teaching. I really thought you would make it Carmilla. And I think the same thing about Laura. Neither of you belong at Silas. You belonged at a school in New York, or San Francisco, where you could have had a real shot. Where I could have done my work without having to tiptoe around the crazy principal.”

Betty crosses her arms and looks away, at the clock. She gets up, wiping her hands on her jeans. “But, enough of my sentimental talk. And by the way, Carmilla, you could still be the one that makes it. You’re only twenty-two. There’s no reason to feel like you’re giving up because you’re paying off student loans. Go home, I’ll finish.”

“Are you sure--”

“Carmilla Karnstein, I have been cleaning this auditorium up by myself for eight years. I think I can handle it. You enjoy what little time you get outside this place.”

You smile, “Thanks Betty.” As you slip on your leather jacket, you look back at her. “You shouldn’t give up either. Have you applied to any of those schools? They’d be crazy not to hire you.”

“As long as you promise to keep auditioning, I’ll apply to some places. How about that?”

“Deal,” you say, and you slip out the door into the night. As you walk to your apartment, you whip out your cell phone. You’re scrolling through your contacts, until you find the one you were looking for: _Cinnamon Roll <3_. You bite your lower lip and start texting before you lose the nerve.

_Carmilla (6:00pm): Hey. Listen. I know you said you never want to see me again. But you said a lot of stuff before I know you didn’t mean._

_Carmilla (6:01pm): Not the breaking up part, I respect that. But I know you well enough to know that you definitely do not ‘give 0 fucks about what happens to me’._

_Carmilla (6:02pm): So I want you to know that I’m okay. Not great, but I have a job and a place to live now, and I’m okay. So don’t worry about me._

_Carmilla (6:03pm): I promise I won’t text you anymore._

_Carmilla (6:04pm): Goodnight, Ell._

You shut the phone, shove your hands in your pockets, and sigh. It’s the kind of sigh that reaches down to your bones. How can one day already make you feel _so tired_?


	4. Chapter 4

Your goal as a teacher is _surviving_ , not thriving, so you decide, after a few days, that you are going to read some of the parts yourself.

“If you guys can’t read like you’re even marginally excited to be here, I will read as Lady Macbeth, today.” You aren’t going to let the best female character in Shakespeare be ruined by terrible acting. But, you can’t read with yourself. You look out at the class and see the familiar brunette watching you intently.

“You. Hollis. Read for Macbeth.” Laura’s face pales instantly.

“You want me to read with _you_? As Macbeth?” Laura asks. “Shouldn’t a boy read for that part?”

“They _should_ , but I’ve given up on any of them giving a decent performance. And yes, all who are paying attention, I _am_ saying I think Laura can play a better man than any of you.”

The girls in the class start snickering.

“What’s wrong, Laura? Don’t think you have the acting chops to take on Shakespeare?”

That does it. Laura’s eyes narrow. “I can act Shakespeare in my _sleep_.”

“Prove it. I’ll start reading.” You start. The class is watching in rapt fascination. You read the lines with ease, the words falling from your mouth like honeyed poison, exactly how Lady Macbeth’s lines should be read. Danny and Perry are rubbing Laura’s shoulders, whispering words of encouragement, like Laura is a boxer about to enter the ring.

“You got this Laura!” Danny says, giving her a thumbs up when it was her turn. She looks at the line, looks at you, takes a breath, and says it in a perfect Scottish accent.

Oh no, you are _not_ getting shown up by an eighteen-year-old.

You switch to a Scottish accent, yourself. You get up and start pacing back and forth with the book in your hands. Laura is conversing in hushed whispers with her friends. They pull her up out of her seat. Perry takes the book and holds it in front of her as Laura gestures.

The rest of the class, meanwhile, is laughing hysterically.

Maybe things are going a little too far, but, in your defense, it’s _really_ fun. The acting gets more and more over-the-top until your accents are almost unintelligibly thick. In a moment of manic inspiration, you stand on top of your desk.

“Twas th’ owl that shriek'd, th’ fatal bellman, which gives th’ stern'st good-night. He is about it: The doors are open; and th’ surfeited grooms--.” The bell rings. The class hoots and claps and you slam the book shut. You hop onto the floor. Okay, now you really went too far.

“Okay, we’ll talk about what just happened tomorrow. And Hollis, where did you learn to do a Scottish accent?”

Laura looks at you as she’s walking out. “Peter Capaldi from Doctor Who,” she says, and you roll your eyes. What a nerd.

* * *

You’re the first to the auditorium for today’s rehearsal, and you’re bored and in a very bad mood. Word got around about your little ‘performance’ in first period. Mother was none too pleased. You spent your free period getting chewed out for it. As you pull the cover off the piano, the auditorium door opens. You expect to see Betty, but Laura is bounding in with her backpack slung around her shoulders, already changed into yoga pants and a cami.

“First one here, I see.”

“I have study hall eighth period, and they let me leave early to get changed,” she answers. Laura goes to her usual seat in the middle of the front row, putting her backpack down. You get the cover completely off the piano and start plinking out a tune when, just as you start getting into a song, she snaps you back to reality.

“Miss Karnstein, can I ask you a question? Before I lose my nerve?”

You turn around on the piano bench. “Is that why you came to rehearsal early?”

“...Maybe,” Laura answers, smiling sheepishly.

“Get it over with, then.”

Laura’s eyes light up, and you can see her trying not to look too excited when she puts her hands in her lap and leans forward in her chair.

“Okay, so I have to start going to auditions for college,” Laura explains, “and I have a few lined up already. Carnegie, Michigan, and NYU...I also sent an application to Julliard, but I really doubt I’ll get an audition for that one. What I’m trying to say is, I am _super_ nervous, so I was wondering if you could give me some tips on college auditions?”

You consider the question. “You really want my advice?”

Laura nods ‘yes’ vigorously.

“Alright. Don’t bother.” Laura’s face falls.

“Don’t bother? You mean like, go straight into auditioning or get an agent--”

“No. I mean don’t bother. Look, you’ve got talent, I’m not denying that. This has nothing to do with you not being good enough. But a small town girl, from a no-name school like Silas? You’ll be up against a million kids that had better training, better opportunities, and better connections. You’re better off finding a job that gives you the time to do community theater, where you can still feel like a big shot.”

Laura looks utterly shocked and confused, and you go back to playing the piano.

“...But you went to NYU.”

“Yeah, and now I’m back here, teaching English, under a mountain of debt, and forced to live in the apartment above a questionable Chinese restaurant with a really creepy looking dragon statue out front.”

“You mean Dragon Palace? I like that statue. I think he’s cute. And the food is good.”

“And there’s the other problem you’ve got.”

“...That I apparently have bad taste in Chinese food, or that I like tacky dragon statues?”

“I mean you’re too _nice_ ,” you groan. “You are a freaking little ball of sickening sunshine. That doesn’t work in this business. You need to be willing to throw the guy next to you under the bus if it means getting a part. You need to not care if that other person needed a job just as much as you. You can’t let it bother you if you’re what’s between them and paying their bills. You have to...to be willing to lose friendships and…” You stop. Pause. Look at Laura’s utterly confused face.

“What I’m trying to say is that, the sooner you stop trying to be Kristin Chenoweth, the better off you’ll be,” you finish gruffly, looking back down at the piano keys. You almost said too much. Not even Betty knew the details of what had happened back in New York.

Laura’s mouth is open slightly. She shakes her head, slowly. “I...I don’t even know what to say. I thought you came back because you wanted to help Mrs. Spielsdorf.”

You laugh bitterly. “Because I _wanted_ to? Not a chance, cupcake.” You can’t help it. You are in a bad mood. Of all the days to have Laura come to you for career advice, she picked the worst possible one.

“Oh.” Laura seems to let your speech sink in. She gets up. “I’m sorry you apparently weren’t able to get a job in New York, and I’m sorry you’re apparently _stuck_ working with us.” She punches ‘stuck’, obviously angry; you can see her clutching the fabric of her pants, like she’s trying not to clench her fists. “But you know what? I don’t care. I know I’m talented, and I’m going to keep working at what I love to do. I might not get there, but I deserve to at least _try_. I’m not giving up. And you shouldn’t either. Even if you’re super bitter.”

“Brave words to say to your English teacher,” you reply, which makes Laura lose a bit of her nerve.

“Oh my gosh. You’re not going to fail me because I talked back are you, are you? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”

“ _Relax_. Makes me feel like this job isn’t permanent.”

“Well. Well, good.” Laura shook her head. “I think I’ll, uh...I’ll see if anyone left any garbage backstage?”

You shrug. “Go for it.” You know the backstage area is spotless--you cleaned it yourself--but she was obviously looking for an out to the awkward conversation, and you were giving it to her.

Great. The closest thing you had to a fan, and you just told her to give up on her dreams. Way to network, Karnstein. But, then again, Laura needed to hear it, didn’t she?

* * *

 

Things go wrong the moment rehearsal starts and Betty tries to block out a scene with Kenickie and Rizzo.

“Alright, Danny, when we get the car, you’ll jump in...and then you lean in and kiss him.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Whoa.” Kirsch backs away from Betty and Danny, holding up his hands. “I have to _kiss_ her?”

“Kirsch, I thought you told me you’ve been memorizing your lines.”

“Well, _yeah_ , but I thought there was a special way actors faked it or something!”

“You can fake it, but that’s generally reserved for middle schoolers, so.”

“Nuh-uh. I have certain principles. Not doing this.”

Danny, whose eyes were rolling so much you’re afraid they’ll go completely inside her head, finally spits out, “What, Kirsch, nervous because you’ve never kissed a girl before?”

“I have kissed plenty of hotties!”

“And I’m sure every single one regretted it.”

“Alright you two, _break it up_.” Betty is rubbing her temples and about to say something else when her phone rings. She picks it up. “Sorry guys, I’m expecting this call. Carmilla, do you think you can hold the fort for a few minutes?”

“Uh...yeah. Sure.” You jog up to the stage, nimbly jumping up. Betty puts the phone to her ear, mouths _thank you_ , and goes out the side entrance that leads into the hallway.

“Okay guys, let’s take it down a little, okay?”

“I am not kissing the Summer Psycho. I do _not_ want to catch her crazy.”

“Well, _I_ don’t want to catch whatever killed your brain cells,” Danny retorts, jabbing Kirsch in the chest. It wasn’t hard, but it caught the boy off guard, and he falls to the ground, hopping back up immediately with his fists raised.

“Oh, you are going to regret that!”

“Bring it popped collar!” Off in the wings, Will whistles.

_“Go, Kirsch!”_

You’re about to break up the fight, but the least likely person you can think of does it instead.

 _“YOU TWO, CALM DOWN!”_ Laura shouts, jumping between them with her arms out, making them both back up. “You both, get a grip, okay!”

“But Laura, he--,”

“No, you both listen to me. Kirsch,” Laura turns to look at him, “you are a senior, and while that ‘stupid puppy’ thing might keep me from completely hating you, you are still totally immature and you need to learn to grow up. And you,” Laura whipped around and stared down Danny, who actually cowered under the five-foot-two girl’s glare, “you _are_ really mature and awesome, so you should know better. Kirsch almost gets you pregnant in the show, Danny, the damage to your reputation isn’t going to be made worse by kissing him, too.”

Laura has been gesturing wildly throughout her rant; she calms down a little and crosses her arms. “Now, instead of turning rehearsal into an MMA match, can we try and not give Mrs. Spielsdorf a hard time and let her do her job?”

Danny is the first to break. “Fine.”

Kirsch gives an affirmative grunt.

“Now, shake hands.”

Hesitantly, under Laura’s watchful eye, Kirsch barely grips Danny’s fingertips and does what she asks.

“I’m sorry, but that had to be said. You guys can’t ruin the show with your stupid arguing,” Laura finishes. Betty walks back into the room. Laura looks at her and walks toward the end of the stage.

“Hey, Hollis. I didn’t know you had that in you,” you whisper as she walks past you. You wait for her to get off the stage before you start walking back to the seats. That whole exchange made you want to sit down.

Laura smiles. “There’s a _lot_ you don’t know about me.” As soon as she says it she blushes, like she can’t believe the words came out of her mouth. “I’m sorry that, uh, sounded very...urgh…” Laura stammers, then stops.

“...You know, for a second there, I thought you might have a bit of an edge,” you answer, tilting your head slightly to the side.

But it was true. You look at the stage, where Kirsch and Danny were rehearsing. They pretended to gag when they were done, but it was a start.

Maybe Laura was a little tougher than you thought.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Betty gives Carmilla news and Laura is acting weird.

Someone brought in donuts, so today is one of your better days. You’re standing in the teachers’ lounge, in the middle of dipping a double chocolate donut in a mug of black coffee, when Betty flounces in, grinning from ear to ear and humming.

“Someone’s in a good mood this morning. And you’re not usually a morning person.”

“Remember that phone call I got yesterday?”

“I don’t keep track of your phone calls, Betty.”

“The one right before Kirsch and Danny almost killed each other?”

“Oh. Right. What about it?”

Betty presses her palms together in front of her, “It was an art school. I sent in an application like I promised, remember? They asked me for a Skype interview!”

“Are you _serious?_ Where and when?”

“San Francisco School of the Arts! They have a teacher that’s retiring at the end of this year, so, if I get in, I don’t even need to leave until the end of the summer.”

You grin, raising your coffee mug in a toast, “Betty, I am so happy for you! I knew you’d get a job.”

“Well, it’s not a definite, yet. I’m going to have the interview and send in some more stuff, but there are a lot of applicants, and I’m definitely not one of the most experienced--,”

“Just shut up, toast me, and enjoy the moment, Betty. You’ll be fine.

* * *

 

Betty doesn’t say anything else about the interview for the next few weeks. Rehearsals go well, and are mostly uneventful.

Also, Laura has been avoiding you. Well, not _avoiding_ , per se, but she certainly isn’t as friendly as she used to be. You’re sure it has something to with that little conversation you guys had. You can’t really blame her. If someone had said that to you during _your_ senior year, you would have been pissed. Danny has been giving you dirty looks sometimes when she thinks you’re not looking, which makes you think that maybe Laura shared the details with the ginger trio.

It’s a shame. You had just started to warm up to the little creampuff.

So, it’s a bit of a surprise when you hear a knock on your door during your free period, and it turns out to be Laura and her friends.

“Laura, Danny, LaF, Perry...okay, what are you all doing here?”

“Are we bothering you, Miss Karnstein?” Laura asks.

“Oh...uh, no,” you put down the red pen you’re using. “I was marking papers. Could use a break anyway. What do you all need? Clearly, this is theater related.”

Danny speaks first, “We heard a rumor that Mrs. Spielsdorf is leaving.”

You don’t answer for a moment. You’re considering if it’s your place to say _anything_ , but, then again, Laura and the ginger trio are Betty’s favorite students. It’s something she has no problem being pretty obvious about, which you guess you’d consider more of a criticism if you hadn’t been her favorite, too.

“...Yeah. She’s _considering_ leaving, after this year. You guys will be gone by then, so you shouldn’t worry. And this is assuming she gets the job she wants. Nothing is definite, so don’t go around telling people the rumors are true, alright?”

They all seem to visibly relax.

“See, Laura? I told you. She wouldn’t just leave,” Perry says. “You have nothing to worry about.”

“Why would Laura have anything to worry about, anyway?” you ask. LaFontaine answers this time.

“Laura,” they put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, beaming at their friend, “has someone from _Julliard_ coming to see the show.”

If you had coffee in your mouth, you’re sure you would have spit it out. Instead, you slam your palm on the desk in disbelief, _“SHUT. UP._ ”

Julliard. You couldn’t even get an audition at Julliard. The ginger trio looks very amused by the reaction. Chill, Karnstein.

Laura smiles nervously, “Uh, yeah. They really liked the video I sent them, and they said they’re sending a--I think they called him a ‘representative’--and he’ll come to see the show and that’s when I get my college interview, and then I go to Julliard to do an audition at the school! Well, if he likes me.” Laura frowns, “I don’t want anything to go wrong. Like the director leaving in the middle of rehearsals.”

“Well, she won’t,” you say again. “And, frankly, I’ve told the four of you too much, so like I said, don’t tell _anyone_. She doesn’t even know if she got the job or not.”

“Of course she got the job. This is Mrs. Spielsdorf we’re talking about, she’s the best director ever.”

“Besides, Laura has other stuff to worry about,” Danny says.

“Yeah, like _homecoming with Will_ ,” LaFontaine says, nudging their friend in the side. Laura blushes scarlet.

“Guys, it’s not like it’s a big deal, Will only asked me because neither of us had dates--,”

“Yeah, and Will didn’t have a date because he wanted to ask you.”

“LaFontaine, it’s _really_ not a big deal,” Laura says again, shifting in place uncomfortably. Perry leans into LaFontaine and whispers about not teasing her, obviously Laura doesn’t like it. You smirk.

“Showmance, Laura? Tsk, tsk. You should know better. I might have to tell Betty to look out.”

“Well, we’ll see. It’s just a dance,” Laura mutters. “Can we go to lunch now, guys? Please?”

“Hey, Laura, wait a second,” you say. “I want to talk to you.”

Laura looks at her friends, then back at you, hesitantly. “...I guess I can meet up with you guys?”

“We’ll wait for you, if you want,” Danny answers.

“No. Really. It’s fine. If you guys don’t hurry, all the pizza will be gone. Save me a slice?”

LaFontaine and Perry leave. Danny follows, looking back as she walks away.

“Gosh, Danny, she’s not a kidnapper, seriously.”

Danny frowns, but leaves.

“I’m sorry, I kind of told her what you said to me and that made her kind of mad.”

“Really? Huh. I didn’t notice.” You run a hand through your hair uncomfortably; you really aren’t good at this.  “Listen, this will only take about thirty seconds...Laura, I’m sorry. I was having a bad day. I’m a teacher, whether I want to be or not, and I should have been more...encouraging. That’s, uh, all I have to say.”

Laura's head tilts slightly to the side, appraising you with a curious expression. “This doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I got an audition with Julliard and you didn’t, does it?”

“Who said I didn’t?” you answer immediately.  

“That didn’t seem like the reaction from someone who’s seen it all before.”

You frown, but grumble, “A lot of famous actors never went to Julliard.”

“Hey, I wasn’t making a big deal of it, LaF was! Are you trying to apologize or not?”

“...Yes. Okay, apology accepted?”

“What made you want to be an actress in the first place?” Laura blurts out, and you lean back a little in your seat. 

“Where did that come from?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because it seems like you gave up kind of fast? You haven’t been out of college that long and you’re already telling people they’re doomed to fail. So what made you even want to be an actress? Come on, you owe me.”

You watch her, and her bunched up determined face was kind of cute, so you decide you’ll just get it over with.

“Well, Mrs. Spielsdorf made me want to pursue acting. She heard me sing freshman year and convinced me to try it, and I loved it. As for music...well, I had a piano teacher when I was eight. She was pretty inspiring.”

“A piano teacher?”

“Yeah. Mrs. Summers I think? I don’t know. She came to my house twice a week. We would sit around and play music--Mother only wanted me to learn Mozart and Beethoven, but she started sneaking me Gershwin and Joplin, and then some of the old-timey musicals when we were alone. She was fantastic. She even started giving me voice lessons, too. I didn’t have her that long, she got sick--last I heard she was okay, but she retired. But, yeah, she definitely got me into music. She encouraged me to apply to schools in New York.”

As you speak, you see that Laura is becoming increasingly uncomfortable. “Something wrong?” you ask.

“...I’m going to go to lunch now,” Laura mumbles. “I’ll see you at rehearsal, Miss Karnstein.”

“Laura, are you alright--,”

“Thank you for telling me that story, but I’m really hungry and I should go.” She power walks out of there so fast, she bangs her shoulder on the side of the door. It doesn’t even slow her down.

So, now she wasn’t just a nerd. She’s also really weird.

* * *

 

You try not to dwell on the fact that every interaction you’re having with Laura either gets you into some sort of trouble or ends with you both feeling very awkward and uncomfortable. You walk into rehearsal determined not to think about it.

Of course Laura is early, _again_ , and talking to Betty, and, from the way she’s sitting close to her, it seems kind of like a personal conversation. One you don’t want them to know you’re hearing. Therefore, you do the only thing you can think of and hide in the tech booth.

“... _Julliard?_ Laura, I am so proud of you. I told you it would happen.”

“I know.”

“So, why don’t you keep your head up, kid, okay? There’s nothing to be upset about.”

You made her cry. Great.

“I know, but, you know, it’s just that I finally got my chance of a lifetime--,”

“I understand, kid.”

“And she doesn’t get to see it.”

“Laura, trust me, not only does she see it, but she’s so proud of you it’s not even funny.”

You hear a few sniffles.

“I bet, right now, she’s bragging to God about how you got an audition at Julliard. The best part? He wishes His son was that talented,” Betty continues, and you hear Laura chuckle.

“Thank you, Mrs. Spielsdorf.”

“And if Carmilla gives you any trouble, let me know. She’ll listen to me.” Oh no.

“She didn’t really give me _trouble_ , but I appreciate that. I think I’ll go clean up my makeup so it doesn’t look like I’ve been, you know…”

You hear footsteps. On impulse, you flatten yourself against the wall of the booth and thank God Laura doesn’t notice, because you feel like this would have been awkward to explain.

You’re about to walk out and pretend you just showed up when you hear a voice.

“Found our conversation interesting, Carmilla?”

“Betty! I, uh, I didn’t--,”

“I saw you walk in.” You slip out of the booth. Betty is looking at you with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, her expression in this weird space between amused and serious.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

“Well, I wanted to talk to you, anyway.” Betty sighs, “Carmilla, look, Laura...she’s gone through a difficult time, alright?”

“I heard. Unintentionally. Who was she talking about?”

Betty looks more serious than you have ever seen her, “I don’t think it’s my place to tell you that. The point is, I kind of took her under my wing, alright? And I’d hate for four years of self-esteem building to be crushed by my own protégé.”

Man, Betty has a habit of taking in the troubled kids. “Look, I get it, okay? I’ll be nicer to her. At least tell me what I said that made her so upset?”

Betty shakes her head, “Sorry. Not my place.”

You both see Laura walk back in.

“Hey, Miss Karnstein, Mrs. Spielsdorf! Should I go to the front for warm-ups?”

“Knock yourself out,” you answer, and Laura practically skips down to the front. You’re astounded by how quickly she went from looking miserable to having a huge grin across her face.

You wonder if it comes from practice, and you think that maybe the two of you aren’t _quite_ so different, after all. 

****  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get real.

That conversation with Betty took place on Friday. Exactly one week later, and Betty is acting _insane_.

To be honest, you should have seen it coming; she had been getting increasingly irritable over the course of the week. You don’t know why she’s gone completely off the deep end today; maybe it’s the kids, they’re a little more distracted than usual. After all, homecoming is tomorrow and the students being preoccupied was to be expected. What wasn’t expected, was Betty turning into a total bitch.

Take the way she treats Kirsch, for instance. Kirsch has a problem with turning out; he is always in profile or turning his back to the audience. There’s really no cure for that sort of thing other than practice, and a lot of patience. And, today, Betty is lacking patience.

“Okay, let’s run this scene, again,” Betty demands.

Kirsch walks onstage and begins reciting his line to Will, “So--,”

“NO. Kirsch, how many times do I have to tell you? Shoulders out.”

“Oh. Sorry, Mrs. S.”

“Try it one more time.”

He does. The scene starts out fine, but, as it goes on, he slowly turns back to profile. You can see Betty’s jaw clench in unholy anger and frustration, and, before you can tell her to relax, she grabs the script she always has laid open in her lap and throws it. It flies right near Kirsch’s and Will’s heads.

“What the _Hell?”_

Kirsch flinches. Will covers his head. He looks like he is getting ready to use Kirsch as a human shield, should Betty pick up anything heavier.

“Betty,” you hiss, grabbing her wrist, “what was that? If _I’m_ telling _you_ to be in a better mood, that’s a problem!”

Betty seems to calm down a little when she looks at the faces of the students, a mixture of shock, fear, and confusion.

“...Rehearsal is out early today. I’ll see you all. Have fun at homecoming. Don’t forget we have rehearsal tomorrow though, I want the principals here by twelve and the rest of the ensemble by one. Bye.” She stares at them, “Well? Usually, you can’t wait to get out of here.”

The students, all very wary of Betty at this point, quietly get up and power walk out of the auditorium.

“Betty, what the Hell was that?” you ask again.

She doesn’t answer at first. She gets up, standing with her hands on her hips. She’s got her head thrown back, eyes shut tight, and, after taking a few breaths, starts pacing back and forth in front of the stage.

“They’re not ready, Carmilla. They’re nowhere near where they should be. They’re supposed to have their lines memorized and be getting off-book for act one, but they’ve still got their faces buried in the script; they’re forgetting cues and blocking, most of which I still don’t have nailed down; I haven’t even _begun_ the choreography--,”

“Hey. Hey. Calm down.” You walk forward, grabbing your friend by the shoulders and easing her down into a seat in the front row. “You realize it’s October, right? It’s the end of October. The show isn’t until April. We’ve only been rehearsing for a month. Chill. We have plenty of time.”

“Believe me, _we_ don’t.”

“You’re overreacting.”

“Carmilla, I am getting on a plane to San Francisco _tomorrow morning._ ”

You’re about to say something, and you stop. “What--,” you stop again. “I don’t…” You tilt your head to the side. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

Betty has her hand over her mouth. Her eyes are closed again. “The teacher they told me I was replacing, the one that was retiring? He had a heart attack. He’s okay, thank God, but he’s quitting early. They want me down there ASAP.”

“...Here is what you are going to do,” you say slowly, enunciating each word slowly and clearly. You squat down so that your eyes are level with hers. “You are going to call that school up and tell them ‘Sorry, but you’re going to need to find a substitute because right now I’m directing a show and I can’t--,’”

“God, Carmilla, you don’t think I tried that? I’ve been back and forth on the phone with them all week. They don’t care. If I don’t go, they’ll give it to the dozens of other applicants that were interviewed.”

“You’ve known about this _all week?_ And you’re only telling me now? Wait. You still haven’t told the kids. When were you planning on doing that?”

Betty stared at her shoes. “...I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m sorry.”

“They can’t do this.”

“They can, and they did.”

“Then, _you_ can’t do this!” you snap. “You can’t just leave, who will direct the show?”

“You’re still here.” Betty answers softly.

“Betty, I told you, I’m not a director. All I’ve done is run warm-ups and make snarky comments.”

“Carmilla, what do you want me to do? Call them up and say, ‘Sorry guys, can’t take the job at a prestigious art school, I’ve got to direct this amateur production of Grease.’ I’d never get another job. If I don’t leave now, I just…” Betty raises her hands, struggling to find words, then lets them fall into her lap. “I will be stuck in Silas. Forever. I just _know_ that’s going to happen and, Carmilla, I love the kids and everything, but I belong in this town about as much as you do.”

You understand, deep down, you really do, but you keep trying anyway because, this isn’t just Betty, this is _Mrs. Spielsdorf._ Mrs. Spielsdorf, who called Mother and said rehearsal was running late when you didn’t want to go home. Mrs. Spielsdorf, who told you that you were going to be on Broadway when Mother and your teachers thought you were just a punk. Mrs. Spielsdorf, who had you star in Rent with your crush after you came out, when Mother almost kicked you out of the house. Mrs. Spielsdorf, who is _leaving_.

“You are selfish. You are running out on me and these kids--,”

“I was your surrogate parent for _four years_ , Carmilla. Do not try and say I don’t care about you. You’re like my daughter. You know that.”

“Fine. Then...then what about _Laura?”_

Betty flinched. “She can still get into Juilliard, it might be a bit more difficult, but…”

“She looks up to you, Betty.”

“You know what? If someone called you tomorrow and offered you a role on Broadway, you’d take it. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t.”

“This isn’t about me--,”   
“Hell, if Ell said she’d take you back if you went back to New York, you’d do it. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t.”

They had never talked about Ell. It had always been an unspoken thing that Something Bad Happened. But, now? Betty. Crossed. The line.

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ bring up Ell. She has nothing to do with this. I don’t give a shit about Ell! Now, considering you don’t work here anymore and I do, _get the Hell out of my auditorium.”_

Betty’s gaze softens, obviously regretting what she said. “Carmilla--,”

“No. I’ll go.” You make an angry swipe at your purse, grabbing it off of the seat you set it on. “But, don’t stay too long. You need time to pack.” You open the back entrance, and are about to step outside, when you hear her voice again.

“Carmilla, wait.”

You stop, but don’t turn around.

“If you change your mind, about directing...I’m only a Skype call away. My door’s always open, remember that.”

“Mine isn’t.”

You walk out, leaving Betty in the auditorium alone, head resting on her hand as she watches you leave.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you're all going to thank me for the cute.

You know you should have cancelled the rehearsal, but that means you would have had to dig through all of the emails and contact information, and, frankly, after your blow-up with Betty, you’d rather curl up in bed and sleep until noon.

Still, someone needs to break the news, so you drag yourself out of bed and get ready.

You’re really dreading seeing the principals, especially since you know who’s going to show up first.

“Good morning!” Laura chirps, striding in, the ginger trio and the guys ambling in behind her. You give a shaky smile.

“Hello. How was, uh, homecoming?”

“It was great!” Laura links arms with Will. “We had a really good time!”

“Even if Kirsch almost ruined everything,” Danny grumbles.

“Hey, I recall you having a beer too, hottie!”

“I didn’t accidentally leave a beer can in my pants.”

“Laura grabbed it and chucked it before the teacher saw! No harm, no foul.”

You clear your throat. The two of them start and look at you warily.

“Why don’t we ignore your underage drinking, just this once, and get to the important stuff, okay? Sit down.”

Laura hops into her seat. “Where is Mrs. Spielsdorf?”

“Okay, she’s...,” you begin saying, but trail off. “Alright, I’m not going to beat around the bush. Mrs. Spielsdorf isn’t coming today. Or pretty much ever.”

As you relay the events of the previous night, you observe their reactions. Kirsch and Will seem to be the least affected; this is their first year, after all, and they aren’t invested. Will seems more concerned with Laura’s reaction.

“...So, yeah. I have no experience directing, so I can’t take over. If you’d like to relay the news to the rest of the cast--I don’t have all of their contact info--that would be really helpful. I’m sorry.”

“What happens to the theater program?” Danny asks.

“What do you think is going to happen?” LaFontaine says, “There’s no way Principal Morgan isn’t going to use this as an excuse to get rid of it.”

“You really think so?” Perry asks, “Surely she won’t be that unreasonable--”

“She rigged the fire alarms to go off if someone uses social media on the computers, Perry. That sound reasonable to you?”

Perry opens her mouth, closes it, and then looks down at the floor.

“Laura, are you alright?” Will tries to put a hand on her shoulder, but Laura stands up abruptly.

“My dad is at a doctor’s appointment, so he won’t be back for an hour. I’m just going to wait for him outside, okay?” Will gets up, probably to come with her. “ No, Will, really, I’m fine. That’s sweet of you, but I’m okay and I’d rather just wait by myself.”

Laura gathers her things and silently walks out.

After a heavy moment, Kirsch declares, “I could try and direct.”

“Kirsch, don’t be an idiot.”

“Got a better idea, Summer Psycho?”

“You are so--”

“Both of you shut up,” you snap.

“What, are we just leaving Laura outside by herself?”

“She doesn’t want to see you, Will.”

“I know, Danny, but someone should talk to her, right?”

All at once, every head turns to you. You sigh, “You don’t realize how bad of an idea this is. Fine.”

You find her outside, sitting on the front steps of the school. She isn’t crying; she looks defeated. You’d almost prefer tears.

Silently, you sit next to her. You don’t say anything for a good minute, and, when you speak, you’re still squinting at the sun shining in the distance.

“Listen, cupcake, I’m sorry, I know this is important for you--,”

Laura shakes her head. “No. I mean, no, don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t want to come back to Silas, and you didn’t make Mrs. Spielsdorf leave.”

“...That’s surprisingly understanding of you. Listen, I’m sure you’ll still be able to audition. There are some good community theaters around here, from what I can remember, and--,”

“I’m not going to audition, Miss Karnstein. I’m going to take your advice.”

You shift so that you’re turned toward her. “I thought I told you I regretted saying that?”

Laura lays back on the steps. The concrete must have been digging into her back, and it looks painful, but Laura either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“Miss Karnstein, I did theater because of my mom. And my dad, and Mrs. Spielsdorf. Mrs. Spielsdorf quit. My mom…” Laura gulps. “My mom kept her maiden name. Her last name was Summers.”

Her mother was Mrs. Summers? Was Mrs. Summers?

“Oh my God, Laura, when did she…?”

“Right before freshman year. Her cancer came back.”

“Oh.” It’s a lot of information to take in. You’d only had Mrs. Summers as a teacher for six months, but she was arguably the biggest influence on your career. Other than Betty, of course.

“That sucks. Your mom was great.” Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with?

“Well, now...now my mom is dead. My dad doesn’t even want me to leave the state, so I have to deal with that guilt. And, now, Mrs. Spielsdorf has left. Clearly, the universe is trying to tell me to stick to a desk job.”  Laura closes her eyes tightly, “Mrs. Spielsdorf didn’t even say goodbye.”

You look at this little kicked puppy next to you, laying on the concrete steps with her eyes shut.

“....Well, _fuck,_ ” you groan. Laura’s eyes fly open.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you state, getting up.  

“We’re going back in?” Laura sits up, “Miss Karnstein, are you…?”

“Before I change my mind. Come on.”

Laura scrambles to her feet, shambling behind you, almost as if she doesn’t quite believe what she thinks you’re going to do. You can’t blame her. Inside, the rest of the principals are gathering their backpacks and about to walk out the door.

“Okay, all of you, sit back down.” They follow your instructions and get re-situated in the seats.

You hop onto the stage. “So…”

“Hey, wait a sec,” LaFontaine turns around to look at the tech booth. “Hey, JP, lights!”

The head of the tech crew, JP--he practically lives in the tech booth, so everyone always knows where to find him--dims the auditorium and stage lights and puts a spotlight on you.

“...What?” LaFontaine asks, smiling sheepishly, “It felt like you needed one.”

You roll your eyes, but push on. _Focus_. You’re an actress; big, dramatic speeches are part of your job.

“Look, I know five minutes ago I was totally ready to let this show die, but...you know, I’ve been thinking, and I know my mother gives you all a lot of crap. She thinks this program is a waste of time and money. Well, if there’s one thing I take pleasure in, it’s annoying my mother, and I am not giving her the satisfaction of shutting this down.”

You’re starting to relax a little under the lights and with the students watching and listening attentively, “But, it’s more than that. This auditorium...it’s a place where your worth is determined by how hard you’re willing to work. Where you’re not judged. Mrs. Spielsdorf always told me that acting was ‘learning to be yourself by being somebody else’, and I’m sure you can all agree that she tried her best to make this show about that. This was important to me, and is important to a lot of you, so I’m not giving up without a fight. So, if you’re willing to work a little harder to make my job easier, I want to try. I can’t promise it will work, but I’ll give it a shot. With that in mind, still tell everyone else rehearsal is cancelled, go home, and show up at the same time tomorrow, because I need to figure out what the hell I’m doing. That’s all. Um…thanks.”

Your audience claps politely and begins walking out. You put your hands in your pockets and turn to walk backstage--Betty must have notes on blocking or something she left behind--but you’re startled by a body crashing into your side and arms wrapping around you.

“Miss Karnstein, your speech was really nice,” Laura’s voice is muffled against your shoulder, and you kind of have no idea how to react to this, so you finally settle on awkwardly patting her on the back.

“Uh, no problem.”

“No, really,” she let’s go, and she’s beaming at you with her hands clasped in front of her. “It means so much to me, and I know you’re not really doing it all for me, but--,”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you interrupt. “Of course I’m doing it for you.” You shrug, “I’m not going to be the reason an incredibly talented, young actress doesn’t go to Juilliard. If Betty isn’t going to help you, I will. But, I better not hear you talk about giving up anymore.”

Laura blushes, “Oh my gosh, Miss Karnstein, I won’t. I promise.”

For a moment, you’re both just looking at each other.

“...Shouldn’t you go outside and wait for your dad?”

“Oh! Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss Karnstein!” Laura waves, leaps off the stage, and practically runs backwards because she’s still waving at you, which causes her to trip. She pops back up, “I’m alright!”

You stifle a laugh and wave goodbye.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bit of cooldown after all the drama.

“What the _fuck_ is this supposed to _mean_ , Betty?” You shove another California roll into your mouth, staring at the pages in front of you. “Jesus _Christ_ \--”

A waiter comes to your table. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“Why?”  
“This is the third time someone has complained about your swearing.”

“I live upstairs. If I go upstairs, I will start throwing things. You want your customers to hear me throwing things?”

“Do you want me to lose my job because I can’t get you to keep it down?” the waiter snaps. His face drains of color. You cock your head, slip your hand into your wallet, and give him a ten.

“Here. If I worked here, I’d be in a bad mood too.” Okay, so partially you were just bribing him, but either way you were doing the waiter a favor, right? He takes it, looking kind of confused, but leaving you nonetheless.

You’d never seen Betty’s notes before; obviously, before now, you never needed to. But, as it turns out, it didn’t matter if you had them or not, because they make _no sense_. Her handwriting is this really loopy cursive that’s almost impossible to read. All of her notes are either really vague, or written with acronyms and abbreviations you don’t recognize. It’s like trying to read ancient Sumerian.

Actually, no. You actually do know how to read ancient Sumerian--Mother had some weird ideas of what you needed to do to be ‘cultured’. This is harder.

“I’m dead,” you groan. “Dead, dead, dead.”

You don’t know why you did this. Why did you do this? You had been ready to walk out the door and wipe your hands of all of it. You could have used your time outside of teaching to get a second job to help pay your loans and bills.

Except, Laura looked so disappointed, and the moment you looked at her face, you crumbled. Failing is the shittiest feeling in the world and you’d rather not subject an eighteen-year-old to it. Not yet.

But, you might let the kid down anyway, because you still have no idea what these notes mean…

_My door’s always open, remember that._

_Mine isn’t._

But, that’s before you got desperate. Maybe, if you have to, you’ll let the door open a crack, but you won’t unlock the chain bolt.

You had brought your laptop with you, so you open it and log into Facebook. You hadn’t unfriended Betty, yet.

_**Carmilla Karnstein: Hey Betty** _

You decide to make it as unceremonious as possible. No apologies, just business.

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: Well, that was quick. You made it about 25 hours.** _

You almost sign off there, but you swallow your pride.

_**Carmilla Karnstein: Only because the handwriting in your copy of the script is shitty.** _

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: OMG you’re DIRECTING?** _

_**Carmilla Karnstein: Unfortunately, yes.** _

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: What changed your mind?** _

_**Carmilla Karnstein: I didn’t want to let them down.** _

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: This wouldn’t have something to do with a certain extremely bubbly, enthusiastic senior?** _

_**Carmilla Karnstein: No.** _

You can’t even see Betty, but you _know_ she’s rolling her eyes.

_**Carmilla Karnstein: ...She was just SITTING THERE. DEVASTATED.** _

_**Carmilla Karnstein: Plus, I apparently knew her mom. Thanks for giving me the heads up on that BTW** _

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: Finally figured out her mom was Tracy Summers? Was waiting for you to connect those dots.** _

_**Carmilla Karnstein: Well, it doesn’t matter, because I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.** _

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: Hey, I’ll help. We can skype.** _

You frown at the laptop for a moment.

_**Carmilla Karnstein: No. I’m not ready to see your face.** _

It takes a good minute for you to get a response.

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: ...I understand, even if I think you’re being a diva.** _

Christ, Betty is not giving you a break.

_**Carmilla Karnstein: Help or not?** _

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: Carm, you’re overthinking this. It’s all pointing to places and telling them when to say stuff. The rest is just...tweaking.** _

_**Carmilla Karnstein: So that’s your advice?** _

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: Pretty much. Most of those notes are probably useless anyway. I never had a chance to see if they’d look good onstage.** _

_**Carmilla Karnstein: I AM DOOMED.** _

_**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: I BELIEVE IN YA KID. ;) Now unfortunately I need to go. Duty calls. Students actually write papers at theater school, who knew? Bye. Message anytime.** _

Betty signs off. You close the laptop, groan, and let your head hit the table. A waiter notices you.

“Ma’am--,”

_“The bill.”_

You don’t even bother looking at how much it is. You throw a bunch of crumpled bills onto the table and head back upstairs to your shitty apartment.

* * *

 

“Okay. Today, we’re going to sing,” you announce to the cast.

They’re all eyeing you warily. Some, because you haven’t been here that long and you’ve already taken control of the theater program. Others, because they know your reputation from high school and are kind of scared. Either way, you hope this doesn’t go badly.

“Get into your voice parts.”

They oblige.

“Do you all remember the lyrics to ‘We Go Together’?”

A unanimous yes.

“Good. Sing.”

You continue to have them sing for the next two hours of rehearsal.

“Miss Karnstein, I’ve sung through ‘There Are Worse Things I Could Do’ three times. Can we block out the actual scene?”

“Are we questioning the director, Lawrence?”

“Yesterday, you told us you have no idea what you’re doing. So kind of, yes.” Okay, points for honesty. You’ll give her that.

“I completely know what I’m doing.” You look at Laura, “Right?” She would back you up. If she told Danny to stop and listen, then Danny would.

Laura blushes. “Uh...I think...I think you’re doing the best you can, given the circumstances?”

Danny nodded in Laura’s direction, then looked back at you with a satisfied smile. _See?_

“Some protégé you are,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.

“I...I’m your ‘protégé’?” Laura asks.

“Well, it’s certainly not going to be Kirsch,” you answer.

Laura looks pleasantly surprised at this new information.

“Can I ask a question?” LaFontaine says, raising their hand.

“Yes?”

“When are we going to learn any choreography? For ‘Born To Hand Jive’?”

Well, shit. You’d forgotten that Betty was a choreographer. “...I’m still working on that.”

“Is that just a fancy way of saying you don’t--”

“Alright, Danny, no one asked _you_ ,” you snap. Okay. Now you’re sounding like Betty right before she left. You clear your throat awkwardly. “Everyone, take five. Rest your voices and drink some water.”

You sit at the piano bench, rubbing your temples with the pads of your fingers.

“...Miss Karnstein, did my mom ever teach you Piano Man?”

You look up. “What?”

“My mom. Did she ever teach it to you?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I’m just,” Laura gestures vaguely toward you, “uh, making conversation.”

You huff.

“Anyway, you were the last student my mom had. Did you know that?”   
You look at her.

“...Don’t tell me you know how to play Piano Man,” you finally respond.  

“A little.” Laura shrugs.

“Show me.” You make room for her on the bench. Laura looks around her nervously.

“Um, really?”

“Just sit. I don’t feel like getting up.”

Laura sits next to you and wiggles her fingers above the keys experimentally. She starts to play, slowly. You can see that she’s looking at you out of the corner of her eye.

“Come on, Laura, it’s just me. _Play._ ”

Laura takes a breath, calming whatever is causing her to be nervous. “Sorry, it’s been awhile.” She starts over. This time she’s much more focused; and yes, there are a few mistakes, but, for the most part, she’s got it.

“Hey, who’s playing Billy Joel--Laura? Cool!” LaFontaine jogs over, motioning for Perry to join them. Soon, the entire cast is gathered around the piano and belting the chorus. You roll your eyes, smile, and join in.

“...Cause we’re all in the mood for a melody, and you’ve got us feelin’ alright!”

The cast burst into laughter, applause, and hoots. Laura smiles, gets up, and takes a mock bow.

“Okay, Laura, thank you for that performance, but everyone get back onstage,” you say. Laura turns to you as everyone takes their places.

“Did that make you feel better?” she asks.

You cross your arms. “Was that all an elaborate plan to cheer me up?”

“I wouldn’t call it _elaborate_ ,” Laura says. “I mean, did you like it? I wasn’t sure, I know I missed a few notes here and there--”

“It was fine, Laura. Seriously.” You jerk your head in the direction of the stage, giving Laura a pat on the arm, “You should get up there. We kind of need you to do the rehearsal.”

“S-sure.” Laura tries to hop onto the stage; she’s short, so she struggles a little to get up. You try not to laugh when Danny reaches a hand down and helps her.

As you awkwardly stumble through blocking, you catch Laura sneaking a glance at

you and biting her lip.

 


	9. Chapter 9

****

The only real choreography in the show, luckily, was the hand jive. Everything else was hand movements that weren’t exactly difficult to come up with.

For instance, in Greased Lightning, all you really needed was some hip thrusts and simultaneous finger pointing. You watched a couple good versions of it on YouTube, and you certainly don’t think you’re an expert, but you know enough that you can walk Kirsch, Will, and the rest of the Burger Palace Boys through the number.

“Hey, Miss Karnstein, can you take us through that one more time?” Will asks.

“...Seriously? This is the third time. It’s not rocket science, guys.”

“Come on, one more time?”

Okay, you’re not stupid. Their request that you demonstrate a dance routine involving hip thrusts on a day that you chose to wear black skinny jeans was _not_ because they were dedicated actors.

“We’ll do it with you this time,” Kirsch offers.

You roll your eyes. _“Fine.”_ What is it about high school guys? They have the attention span of squirrels. If this is what it would take to get through the damn number so you can move on, you’d get it over with.

“Okay.” You stand in front of the group. “All of you follow with me. JP! Play the soundtrack?”

“Will do, Miss K!”

The music starts again. You have to admit you get kind of into it; you’re teaching by example, after all, and there’s a certain professional pride in giving it the same enthusiasm you expect from your cast. Yes, _your_ cast. You’re getting used to calling them that now.

You get a little lost in the performance, you admit, because when the music over, you’re breathing a touch heavier--and you see a group of girls laughing hysterically in the back.

“Uh...are you ready to work with the Pink Ladies now, or do you want to work on your big scene some more, Kenickie?” Danny asks, eliciting more giggles from the group.

You hope you’re not blushing and you grumble, “Work on the number and we’ll go over it tomorrow.” The boys are dismissed. As the girls head up to the front, you hop off the stage. “And girls, get on stage. Uh...warm up your voices or something.”

“Were they…?” you whisper to Laura as she walks past you. The brunette turns around and looks at you.

“At first, but then they kind of stopped and started staring at you.” Laura shrugs. It’s clear she’s trying not to grin, but she’s failing. She takes a step closer to you--she falters a little, almost as if she’s nervous--but commits to taking that step and says softly:

“...You really miss acting, don’t you? On stage, I mean.”

“That obvious?”

“Kind of. I mean if the--the _Scottish play_ thing didn’t make it kind of clear. It’s not a bad thing, though.” Laura looked back at her friends. “Especially since you were so good at it.”

Danny waves at her. Laura waves back, looks at you again, and then goes to join her friends.

“Alright girls, let’s run this scene. And...go.”

You’ve started a new habit of standing up close and banging on the stage every time a scene starts to lag. You get so bored banging on the stage every ten seconds that you start drumming out ‘We Will Rock You’ instead.

“You need...to pick up...the line,” you say to the beat. “Come on, guys, you can do better than this. Try it again--”

There’s a knock on the door of the auditorium. It’s really a formality, however, because, before you even start walking up the aisle, the door opens and there’s Mother, striding down to the front like she owned the place. Well, she kind of did, but still…

“Mother! What can I do for you?” you say, hoping to get her in and out as fast as possible.

“When it involves school business, I prefer to be called ‘Principal Morgan’ to avoid the appearance of favoritism,” she answers, and you try so hard not to roll your eyes that it’s giving you a headache.

“Well, Principal Morgan, what can I do? You’ll see that we have the auditorium for another hour at least--”

“That’s not why I’m here, Carmilla.”

“When it involves school business, I prefer ‘Miss Karnstein,’” you answer quickly. You’re careful not to make it too biting. Out of the corner of your eye, you see LaFontaine mouth _‘burn’_ to Perry. Mother only narrows her eyes until they’re mere slits.

“I am here, _Miss Karnstein_ , because one of your students is on academic probation.”

“Look, if it’s Kirsch, I didn’t realize it and I already sent the boys home.”

“It’s one of the girls, actually.”

“Girls?” You turn and cross your arms, looking at the Pink Ladies. As far as you know, they are all good students--none of them strike you as dumb. All of them look a little uncomfortable, but who wouldn’t with your mother glaring at them?

But, then you lock eyes with Laura. She’s biting her lip so hard it might bleed and her face is totally white.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Laura,” you groan.

“Ah yes, Ms. Hollis. I had forgotten her name.” Mother walks forward. She holds out a hand and makes a ‘come hither’ motion. Laura hangs her head and follows.

“That’s not fair!” Danny exclaims. “Laura is the lead, you can’t kick her out--” Perry, LaFontaine, and Sarah Jane all grab Danny at once, whispering for her to calm down. You catch one of them whisper, ‘don’t be a hero, Lawrence’ and ‘she’ll suck your soul through your eyeballs, it’s not worth it’.

“I am aware of Ms. Hollis’s position in this production,” Mother answers, “which is why I came here personally to make sure that you were following school procedures. Clearly, that was not the case.”

You fight the urge to ball your hands into fists. “I apologize. I wasn’t aware that she was failing any classes,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Well, I would hope that, in the future, you would pay more attention to your students’ grades. As for you,” she takes Laura’s wrist firmly, “you will be going home. Our school spells out the consequences for poor grades quite clearly, and you openly defied them when you attended an extracurricular activity--”

“I’ll walk her out,” you interrupt. Watching her placing a hand on Laura, one of your students, is pissing you off. “It’s my fault she’s here, it’s my responsibility to see her out.”

“Well...I already called her father. He should be here shortly.” She lets go of Laura’s wrist. You put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and motion with your head. Laura relaxes a little and follows you.

“You were pretty quiet throughout that little exchange,” you whisper.

“Miss Karnstein, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _so sorry_ , I thought I could bring my grade back up before anyone noticed--”

“My mom already terrorized you enough.” You open the doors; you see headlights, which means Laura’s dad is already here. “And you’re probably going to hear enough of it from your dad.”

“What do we do now?” she asks.

“Meet me in the auditorium during your lunch period and we will talk about this grade,” you answer. “Now, your dad is waiting.”

“...Goodnight. And look, I’m sorry--”

“If you really want to make it up to me, you’ll stop saying sorry. It’s annoying. Look, use the energy you’re spending apologizing to try and remember some vocab. Alright?”

“Absolutely.” Laura looks like she’s going to be sick. She waves at her father. You see a large, balding, linebacker of a man wave Laura over. He didn’t look like he was steaming, which you guess is a good sign.

Once Laura gets into the car and drives away, you head back into the auditorium, hoping that Mother didn’t suck out the souls of your cast while you were gone.


	10. Chapter 10

You’ve barely spoken to the rest of the teaching staff since you started working at Silas High; you don’t blame them for avoiding you, either. After all, they did all have you as a student at some point. But, after yesterday? You needed some answers. So ten minutes before homeroom, you walk in to the teachers’ lounge and get right to the point:

“Okay, how many of you have had Laura Hollis as a student and what can you tell me about her?”

She’s a straight-A student. Always ready with a smile and a kind word. Favorite to win ‘most likely to brighten your day’ as a senior superlative (there’s apparently a betting pool on those among the teachers every year). Attracts animals with her angelic voice to help clean the classrooms. They wish they could adopt her as their own child.

Okay, so the last couple were an exaggeration. But, you’re kind of convinced they’re thinking it.

The point is: Laura’s bright. And none of her other teachers think she is having trouble. So which class is she…?

Actually, when was the last time you took a good look at your grade book?

You walk back into your classroom. Grading is so boring that, ninety percent of the time, you don’t even remember what you actually give each person. And your tests are ridiculously easy; all multiple choice stuff that you can mark with a red pen in five minutes. Mark, mark, mark, type the number in, done.

You still refuse to treat this job as anything more than a means of survival.

“Okay...her name should be with the H’s...seriously? She’s failing my class?”

But, there it is. At the rate she’s going, if she wants to pass, she needs 90’s for the rest of the semester. Assuming she does well on the midterm.

Oddly enough, all the homework grades are fine. So what’s happening with the tests and quizzes?

As students begin to file in, you place your palms on Laura’s desk, facing her, and lean down to eye level.

“Laura. Remember to meet me in the auditorium during your lunch period.”

Laura swallows. “Will do, Miss Karnstein.”

You nod, straighten up, and walk back up to the front to give a lecture on romanticism. Your eyes hover to Laura’s desk every few minutes. She seems like she’s paying attention. In fact, she always has. She raises her hand constantly, even if sometimes, when you call on her, she seems to realize that she doesn’t have an answer for you. Kind of annoying, but you guess you appreciate the enthusiasm, especially compared to all the other zombie faces.

You’re in the middle of talking about “The Devil and Tom Walker”, and how it’s a perfect representation of the  American romanticism movement, when the bell rings.

“Okay, read that story in the book and we’ll talk about it tomorrow,” you finish as the students pack up and file out. Laura walks past you. “And kid, just grab your lunch and I’ll probably be in the auditorium by the time you get there.”

Laura audibly gulps and nods.

By the time you get to the auditorium with your brown-bag lunch, Laura is already sitting Indian style on one of the seats in the front row, hands folded neatly in her lap, her own lunch bag on the seat next to her.

“Hey, Laura,” you start, walking towards the front of the auditorium.

“Miss Karnstein, hey! We need to talk about that grade, right?”

“Yes, we do. I’m honestly kind of confused.” You sit at the piano bench on the right side of the stage, facing Laura.

“I am, too. I’m usually not a bad student. Maybe it’s the, uh, stress of the show or something--”

“Laura, you really expect me to believe that? I talked to your other teachers. They all say you’re God’s gift to academics. Explain to me how you go from straight-As to a forty average.”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be failing.”

“You’re really going to go with that answer?”

Laura stays silent and doesn’t look at you.

“I just don’t understand. It can’t be because you’re not paying attention, your eyes are always on me and you’re the first to raise your hand--”

Wait.

The staring at you.

Her not really paying attention to what you’re saying.

How she always seems just _slightly_ nervous when she talks to you and ends up grinning like a dopey puppy or something.

“...Oh my God, you have a crush on me.”

Laura’s looking directly at you now, hands fidgeting in her lap. “What? No! That’s ridiculous. I am straight as a _board_.”

“For a great actress, you are an awful liar,” you respond, raising an eyebrow. “In the words of our good friend, Shakespeare, ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks.’ ”

Laura tries to keep denying it, shaking her head vigorously. “I...no, I do not--” 

“Well, if you don’t, I can always set up a meeting with your father--”

“No!” Laura opens her mouth a few times, making sounds that are vaguely like the beginning of sentences, when she finally gives up and hangs her head.

“...I haven’t told anyone. Please don’t tell anyone. I’ve never told anyone that I’m…” Laura trails off.

There’s a swooping feeling in your stomach when you realize the implications of this exchange.

_Holy shit, she just came out to you._

_Holy shit, you really_ have _become the new Betty._

_SAY SOMETHING SHE’S ALREADY ENOUGH OF A NERVOUS WRECK ABOUT IT._

“Well. That’s...flattering,” you finally get out.

Laura stares at you.

“I mean...it’s actually kind of obvious looking back on it. No offense, cupcake, but you’re about as subtle as a brick.”

“I wasn’t _trying_ to flirt with you,” Laura groans. “I don’t want to have a crush on you.” She rambles on, “And, at first, I was mostly able get over it, ‘cause I thought you were a jerk. But, then you took over the show after Betty left, and you said you did it for me because you felt bad for what you said, and you’re so talented, and you can actually be kind of nice, and plus you’re super attractive--” Laura snaps her mouth shut so hard, you worry for her teeth.

“...It’s just really confusing,” Laura finishes softly.

“Well.” You take a deep breath. “Well, if you were going to pick an issue to have, at least you picked one I have personal experience with.”

“What…?”

You raise an eyebrow. “You call yourself a fan and you didn’t know I was dating my Rent co-star?”

“Wait...so you’re…?”

“I am absolutely ecstatic,” you answer dryly, and Laura nods to herself.

“Wow. Whoa. I can’t believe I missed that. So, are we okay…?”

“Laura, half the male student body has hit on me and we’re only in December. At least you’re not being a creep about it. Not to mention, if I had a problem with gay people, I wouldn’t have become a theater major. Even if I _was_ straight.”

“So, this isn’t weird?”

“Laura, first thing you should do: stop thinking this is weird. Well, not the telling me part, that’s kind of an extreme circumstance.  But, would it be weird if you had a crush on a male teacher?”

“I guess not as much…”

“Well, this isn’t any different,” you say firmly. “And I won’t tell anyone, as long as you bring up that grade. Can you do that?”

Laura bites her lip. “Now that I told _somebody_ , I feel a lot better,” she smiles, and grabs her lunch bag. “Hey, can I stay for lunch?”

“Why?”

“Well, maybe when we’re done eating, we can work on character stuff. So I don’t miss too much while I can’t go to rehearsal.”

You lean in, chin on your hand. “My mother probably wouldn’t like that.”

“Well…” Laura shrugs, “We don’t like her, so…?” She smiles mischievously.

“Why, Ms. Hollis, I _have_ made an impression on you. Sure. And hey--you know you can trust me, right? I won’t out you. So don’t worry about it. Trust me, I’m not exactly ‘Miss Sensitive’, but that’s one thing I understand.”

Laura takes out her fluffernutter sandwich and unwraps it. “How am I going to get over my crush on you when you’re being so nice to me? Of course I trust you.”

You roll your eyes as you take your own sandwich out. “Fine. Eat your lunch you little twerp. That better?”

Before you take a bite, you see Laura wrinkle her nose. “What is in that?”

“Tzatziki sauce, hummus, and tapenade,” you answer. “I haven’t been to Shop-Rite in a few weeks and this was the only food left in my fridge.”

“So you made a _dip sandwich?_ No offense, but it looks kind of disgusting.”

You’re about to give a retort when you pause; you’ve just had an idea. With a grin, you look straight at her and cram the entire thing in your mouth. The gooey mixture oozes out the back and you cup your chin to keep it from dripping onto your blouse. Laura looks absolutely horrified and repulsed.

“...Still have a crush on me now?” you say as you chew and swallow the last of the sandwich.

“If you didn’t lick your fingers like that, maybe…”

You stop; you hadn’t even realized you were licking tzatziki delicately off your pointer finger. You throw your head back and laugh.

“ _Wow,_ buttercup, you really have got it _bad_.”  

Laura blushes, chuckling at the floor, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Shut up,” she mutters. “Can we go over the lines now?”

“If you don’t get distracted staring into my eyes, sure,” you tease. Laura frowns at you.

“Nevermind what I said before, you really are a jerk.” But, she smiles and pulls out her script. “And, before you say anything: yes, I did bring it with me. An actor has got to be prepared.”

Okay, if she wasn’t your favorite student before, she _definitely_ is now.


	11. Chapter 11

It’s the last rehearsal before Christmas break and Laura has brought her grade up to a sixty-five--unfortunately, it’s just short of being high enough to get her off of academic probation, but _technically_ there’s only a rule about _participating_ in extracurriculars, so you tell Laura to sit in the back with you. She can duck under the seats if Mother comes to check.

“Alright, boys and girls, let’s run the first act and get out of here,” you shout, settling down in your seat. You’re sitting in the very last row; your back is hitting the wall of the tech booth. You look at Laura, whose head is buried in her vocab book.

Since that little conversation you both had a few weeks ago, things haven’t been... _awkward_ exactly, but certainly different. You’re reminded every time you look at Laura that you’re carrying the burden of a very personal secret, one she hasn’t trusted anyone else enough to tell. You’ve never been a secret keeper. Of anyone else’s secrets, anyway.

Sure, you kind of forced her to tell you, but the point is, _you know_.

“...Hey cupcake, you want to help?”

“...Platitudinous, fraudulent, bulwark…”

“ _Cupcake_. Put down the book for a second.”

“Huh…? Miss Karnstein, the midterm--”

“Is not until after break. So, want to help?”

“Um, how?”

“You see that we’re right in front of the wall of the tech booth, right?” You tap a knuckle on it for good measure.

Laura nods.

“Well, we’re sitting in the back to make sure they’re loud enough. If you can’t hear them, I want you to bang your hand on it. Like so,” you bang against it, making a loud _thud_.

“Oh. Okay.”

“Alright. Buckle up, creampuff.”

Laura laughs and you try and focus on the rehearsal.

Things are going, for all intents and purposes, pretty well. Will is sufficiently douchey as Danny Zuko. Kirsch is actually kind of hilarious as Kenickie, flexing his muscles every chance he gets. When Danny rolls her eyes, but gets into the car to kiss him anyway, the dynamic actually works.   
Danny is okay as Rizzo. Maybe a little too _fabulous_. You’d need to work on getting her to be more droll. Perry and LaF are hilarious though. So, overall, you think the Pink Ladies are doing a good job.

“Can’t hear you guys!” Laura shouts, banging on the booth during the sleepover scene.

“ _Whoa_ , cupcake, don’t go mad with power on me,” you say. “If you bang that too hard, you can damage the equipment or something.” Laura smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry. Maybe I should go back to studying for my midterm?”

“You have the rest of break to study.”

“I _know_ , but I want to do holiday stuff over break. Would you want to grade papers for Christmas?”

“I probably will be.”

“Seriously?” Laura asks, pausing.

“Well, I got nothing better to do,” you shrug. Laura sits up straighter in her seat.

“...You don’t have anything to do for Christmas?” she inquires softly.

Shit. You didn’t want to have this conversation. You kind of liked the ego boost of a pretty senior girl (you’re not _blind_ , come on) thinking you’re the coolest person ever. As Sarah Jane is running ‘Freddy My Love’, you whisper:

“Other than dinner with Mother, no.” Laura winces.

“Ouch. You know...Betty threw a Christmas party for the cast every year.”

You remember. Even with her strict rule against alcohol, Betty’s Christmas parties are legendary. The thought makes you laugh.

“Laura, I love the cast and everything, but throwing a Christmas party is not going to happen. I got enough to worry about as it is. Plus, I’m Jewish, so...” Well, your father was, and you guys didn’t really celebrate anything.

“Oh.” You both settle back in your seats. Laura is biting her lip; she looks like she’s deep in thought. When she catches you looking, she grabs her vocab book again, and this time you don’t stop her. You go back to watching the show. You missed some of it while you were having your little conversation, but everything is still running pretty smoothly other than a missed line here and there. When they finish ‘We Go Together’--still unchoreographed for the most part--you stand up and walk to the front.

“Alright everyone, I’ve got a couple of notes for you all, but I think this was alright. Not bad, all things considering. I’m okay with where we are at this point. First of all…” You look back at Laura. “I think we all need to give Laura a hand, because that was the best performance she’s given all year.”

The class laughs and claps. Laura pouts and rolls her eyes.

“But, seriously guys, other than some dropped lines you’ve been decent. I’m hoping we come back from break and really hit our stride, but for where we are now? Not bad. So kudos and everything.”

You see Will and Kirsch jokingly slap each other on the back. “Whoot!”

“Don’t get a swelled head guys. I want to see some improvement when we get back from break. And seniors, you all better study for my midterm. We’re already down one lead and I’m not going to lose another.”

You’re being lukewarm, you know that, but you’re not the type to gush. ‘Not bad’ is the highest form of flattery for you.

“Have a good Christmas guys.” Everyone starts to leave. Laura is the last; she stops at the door and turns around, giving you a long hard look, which you respond to with a raised eyebrow. She looks like she’s getting ready to say something--happy holidays or whatever--but she thinks better of it, turns, and walks out the door.

You sigh, putting your hands in the pocket of your coat after wrapping a scarf tightly around your neck. As you walk into the chilly winter air, you mentally prepare yourself for Christmas dinner.

* * *

 

Dinner on Christmas goes about as well as you could have hoped for, which isn’t saying much. It’s the annual production of ‘you’re a disappointment, just like your father’, now with the added song and dance routine, ‘I told you you’d regret leaving’, with the ever popular grand finale, an ironic number called ‘I don’t understand why you’re being so rude, dear, when I’m just making conversation’.   
To give yourself a little reprieve, you try and change the subject.

You’d be lying if you said Mother has no redeeming qualities; there is a reason you minored in philosophy. When you were little, she would tell you about Socrates, Plato and Aristotle. You were too young to understand what any of it meant, but it was better than any lullaby. That was before your parents got divorced, back when Mother wasn’t an angry mess all the time...

“...Honestly Carmilla, you could have been a brilliant professor if you hadn’t wasted your time with this little theater phase you went through--”

...And intermission ends and the show is back on.

* * *

 

You drag yourself into your apartment at eight o’clock. You haven’t had any alcohol--Lord knows what you would have said to Mother under the influence--but you are desperate for a glass of wine. You settle into your couch with the glass, flipping on the TV and leaving A Christmas Story on. You’re rubbing the bridge of your nose with your thumb. Wow, you can’t believe you’re thinking this, but you wish you had a rehearsal to run right now--

You pause in your self-loathing to realize that there are voices outside your door. Whispering.

“...Is this really her place? Everything smells like soy sauce.”

“Bro, how many apartments are there in Silas above a chinese restaurant?”

“Kirsch! Watch where you’re going!”

“Lay off me Summer Psycho, _someone_ won’t let us turn the light on in this hallway.”

“ _Guys_ ,” you hear Laura whisper urgently, “be quiet, the whole point was that we wanted to surprise her--”

“Surprise me with what?”

You open the door and are greeted with a couple dozen high schoolers, Laura standing in the middle of them, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights. Everyone is looking at her.

The senior looks at you, takes a deep breath, and does an about face so her back is turned to you. She raises her hands.

“And one, two, one two three…” The entire cast began to sing.

“We wish you a merry Christmas! We wish you a merry Christmas! We wish you a merry Christmas, and a happy New Year!”

Oh God, Laura is conducting Christmas carolers outside your door. After you said you have no Christmas spirit. Does she _ever_ give up?

“Good tidings we bring, to you and your kin, good tidings for Christmas…”

Laura cuts them off, turns around, and flashes the biggest grin you’ve ever seen.

“...And a happy New Year, Miss Karnstein.”

You don’t say anything. You’re too shocked.

“Since you couldn’t throw a party, we thought we’d bring the party here. We got food, and some decorations, and even a gift...is it okay?”

She’s starting to doubt herself. SAY SOMETHING.

“...I’m Jewish,” you respond weakly. Perry elbows LaFontaine in the ribs.

“See, I _told_ you just because my family celebrates Christmas, doesn’t mean that every Jewish person does!”

Laura frowns, “We could do the Dreidel Song if you want…?”

Your brain stops short-circuiting long enough to realize how stupid you sound. Everyone is looking at you hopefully, decked out in varying states of Christmas attire. LaFontaine is even wearing a blinking Rudolph nose. Laura has a giant polar bear on her sweater.

“But, uh, Christmas is commercial anyway, so come in,” you finish gruffly. Laura smiles again.

“We’re in guys!”

_Goddammit Carmilla, what have you done?_

Everyone walks in carrying tupperware of assorted sizes; you assume they’re leftovers. Perry is barking orders, trying to get the food organized as she finds your kitchenette and throws her pan of brownies in the oven. It’s a weird hodgepodge of food--you see Kirsch brought _tacos_ of all things--but it looks a hundred times more appealing than anything you had to eat with Mother.

LaFontaine is asking you if you have an iPod dock and, when you direct them to the one on the table next to your couch, they plug in their iPhone and you hear Mariah Carey belting Christmas cheer throughout your apartment.

You’ve been standing awkwardly in the middle of all of this.

“Come on. Miss Karnstein, eat some food!” Kirsch stuffs a brownie in his mouth; at some point, he donned a hat with a sprig of mistletoe hanging from it. He waggles his eyebrows at Danny as she walks past and she calls him a pig.

You grab a brownie and migrate back to your couch. You take a bite. Laura, of course, plops down next to you.

“Like the party, Miss Karnstein?”

“...Kid,” you lower your voice, “do not take this the wrong way, but is this some plan to win me over or something?”

Laura’s eyes widen. “God, _no._ I thought you promised we were cool.”

“So you go around doing this for everyone. Organizing parties.”

“Well, yeah. I mean, never a Christmas one, but birthday parties and stuff once in awhile for my friends. I’m kind of known for it.”

You stare at her. She looks totally serious, and you remember what you had said to her back in November. _For a great actress you are a terrible liar_. Laura was really _this nice_. And then you realize something else.

“So we’re friends now, huh?”

“Kind of? I mean, if you’re not okay with me calling you that, it’s fine, I understand--”

“As long as you still call me ‘Miss Karnstein’, sure.”

You don’t know why you’re doing this. It’s dangerous territory, and you already are probably being a _little_ too friendly with her, teasing her about the crush she has on you. So, was this because you’re lonely? Because you’re depressed? You don’t know. But, you haven’t had someone you were _just friends_ with since Betty left. You may not like people in general, but even you want at least one friend. You need one. 

Laura smiles warmly and looks down at her hands, which she has folded in her lap. “Good, ‘cause I got you a present.”

“A present?”

Laura nods. She gets up, walking back to your kitchen table, where she put a square cardboard box.

“Open it,” she says, holding it out to you.

“Laura, you didn’t--” You open it, “In fact, you _really_ didn’t.”

It’s a red sweater. With a large picture of Grumpy Cat. Wearing reindeer antlers. The rest of the cast must have been waiting for this because all eyes are on you now.

“Do you like it? We helped Laura pick it out,” LaFontaine says, trying not to laugh. “We thought it fit your personality _perfectly_.”

“Guys, you managed to Christmas spirit your way into my home, and I like you all, but _this_ is where I draw the line.”

“Oh come on, Miss K!” Will calls out, “Put it on!” He starts a chant, Kirsch egging everyone on as they repeat,

“Put it on! Put it on! Put it on! Put it--”

“ _Okay_. But guys, I gotta put teacher mode on. Having a couple dozen kids in my apartment making noise will not sit well with my landlords. You need to go, and I put on the sweater, deal?”

Everyone watches in anticipation as you slip it on over your shirt. As soon as you do, there’s applause all around.

“Alright, now get out of here.”

As everyone goes to leave, Laura whispers something in Danny ear. She hands Laura her phone.

“Miss Karnstein, before I leave, can I take a picture?”

“Why?”

“Because after we leave, you’ll probably burn that sweater, and I want a picture for posterity.”

“...Fine.” Laura takes the phone, standing next to you, and you refuse to smile despite her nudging you. Eventually she gives up and takes the picture.

“You really are Grumpy Cat, aren’t you?”

“Clothes make the man, cupcake. Now, _go home_.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, creampuffs.

You spend the rest of break alone, even though you are half-expecting Laura and her band of merry-makers to show up on New Year’s Eve with noisemakers and party hats. There is no way you are going to open the door for that, so you’re grateful that isn’t the case.

Break is boring. You drink a lot--not ‘blackout drunk’, but enough that you wake up the next morning and have to pop a couple of Advils. And enough that you go on Laura’s Instagram and repost the photo she took of the two of you in your ridiculous Christmas sweaters.

When your mind isn’t quite so hazy, you realize you really _should_ delete it, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. Which is completely because you’re lazy. No other reason.

So when it’s finally time to return to school, you’re happy, if a little nervous. It’s the beginning of January now; the show is the second week of April. And act two has barely been worked on, mostly because you have no idea how to choreograph it. Seriously. You even go back to Betty for advice.

**Carmilla Karnstein: ...So I need you to tell me how to choreograph a show.**

**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: In your case, having no training? A prayer circle would be a good start.**

You sign off shortly after that. Are you that annoying when you’re sarcastic? Because then, you almost feel like apologizing for it. At least you can forget about it while you teach. 

“Okay, class, today we’re starting a unit on Jonathan Swift’s _Gulliver’s Travels_ and _A Modest Proposal_. Does anyone know about either of those?” 

Laura raises her hand. “In _A Modest Proposal_ , he says that because Ireland has so much trouble taking care of poor children, we should eat them instead.” Laura chuckles a little.

The entire class looks at her in shock.

“What? It’s supposed to be funny, that’s the _point_ ,” Laura says in response to the stares, and she looks down at her desk.

You arch an eyebrow. Laura doesn’t seem like the type of person to find that kind of humor funny.

“...Well, as surprising as your enjoyment of baby eating humor is, cupcake,  your summary _was_ correct.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what you did.

Cupcake. You called her cupcake. In front of the entire classroom.

They don’t seem to have noticed. But, you should probably start talking before they realize you’ve flustered yourself. So, you use the weapon in every teacher’s arsenal when you don’t want to talk to a class:

“Read the piece in your books and answer the questions.”

And you hide behind your grade book to cover the blush creeping up your cheeks until the bell rings.

Good. You don’t think anyone noticed your little slip up, since you’re not getting any weird looks as they walk out. You give a nod of the head to your students as they pass.

“I hope the three of you got act two memorized for today,” you say as Laura and her friends walk past. Danny looks back at you.

“Don’t worry, Miss Karnstein, _cupcake_ won’t let you down,” Danny says, putting an arm around Laura’s shoulders.  

“Danny, I told you not--” Perry begins, but Danny starts laughing and Laura, looking rather awkward about the whole thing, follows her as she walks out of the classroom.

Perry takes one look at your clenching jaw and scampers away to join them.

Okay, so maybe you’d rather be home with a bottle of champagne after all.

* * *

 

You’ve spent the entire day up until now trying to figure out ways to put off the hand jive scene, but you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that you’re going to need to admit you have no idea what you’re doing.

Of course, you know they know that already, it isn’t a coincidence that you’ve skipped every scene that requires anything more than basic hand movements, but it still isn’t going to be fun to confirm it.

You’ve got a little time until the kids show up, so you start with taking the cover off the piano. Maybe it’s because you’ve been a little off all day since the little ‘cupcake’ incident, but it’s particularly difficult to handle the damn thing.

“Why is this so fu--”

“...Do you want help?”

You freeze.

Oh no.

No, no, no, no, please do not let that voice mean what you think it means.

Slowly, you turn around.

Oh, _shit_.

She’s exactly how you remembered; so beautiful that you will your heart not to break again looking at her. She’s covered in snow from the outside, lightly dusted over blonde hair and the fur collar of her a-line jacket.

“This is probably kind of awkward for you, isn’t it?” She takes a hand out of her pocket and wiggles her fingers in greeting, “Hello, Carmilla. I thought you might be here, I asked some of our old teachers. They said you worked here now.”

You take a deep, shaky breath, mind clouded by anger.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here--”

The door opens and kids start filing in.

“Hey, Miss Karnstein, I--” Laura stops. The rest of the cast is watching the two of you. You’re glaring daggers at your visitor. She looks mildly uncomfortable. “Uh, who are you?”

She turns around and smiles. “...My name is Ell,” she says evenly. She walks to you; you keep your distance as she smoothly takes off the piano cover for you. “I was part of the theater program here, and I thought I would stop by to see how it’s been since I graduated.”

You don’t say anything, crossing your arms. Laura tilts her head to the side.

“You do look kind of familiar.”

_Laura, please don’t put it together, please don’t--_

“Oh! I remember! Weren’t you Joanne when Silas did--” The senior’s eyes widen, flicking over to you quickly. “...Rent.”

This entire day has been a series of _oh shit_ moments for you.

Ell keeps smiling. “Yes, I was.”

Laura seems torn between wanting to shake her hand and wanting to ignore her. “Well, uh, you were pretty good in that, I guess, um…”

“Guys, I’m going to need you all to leave and tell anyone else who comes that rehearsal is going to start late today,” you say.

“Why--”

“Danny, don’t argue with me for once, okay? Just do it.”

Danny looks at Perry and LaFontaine. The two shrug at Danny and turn to leave. Laura walks up to you.

“Miss Karnstein,” she whispers, “you don’t look happy that she’s here, are you--”

“It’s fine, Laura. Just let me handle it, okay?”

Laura frowns in Ell’s direction. She has since sat down in a seat at the back of the auditorium, looking around the room.

“...But, if you need any, I don’t know, help or something…”

An image of Laura Hollis telling Ell to back off appears in your mind and you can’t help smiling a little. “I will whistle for your posse of gingers to back me up. But, seriously kid, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Laura eyes Ell suspiciously as she walks out.

Now you’re both staring at each other--you from the front of the stage, Ell from the back of the auditorium. She gets up, walking with the flowing grace of a dancer, until she’s running a hand on the stage, fingers ghosting the polished wood.

“It’s changed a lot since I left,” Ell says. “Mrs. Spielsdorf worked really hard on it. I saw on Facebook that she’s at a new school now.”

“...Ell, I said before, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Ell frowns; she did it a lot in the months before you broke up, but it still looks so wrong on her face.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I thought you didn’t give a shit,” you respond.

“If you really thought I meant that, why would you send me that text in September?”

Ell doesn’t look at you; she only reaches into her pocket and pulls out an iPhone.

You don’t know why. But, that was right after the breakup. You were hurt, still nostalgic, and maybe part of you was still hoping that Ell would take that message and beg you to come back. Now that she’s here--after months of dealing with your Mother and essentially being alone--it’s too little, too late. Everything you feel toward her is anger now.

“How did you know I was here?”

Ell doesn’t answer, still looking down at her phone.

“I went on Instagram and saw this,” she says, tapping the screen as she goes onto the internet.

She hands you the phone, and you fight the urge to smash it. The screen is filled with a photo. The Christmas photo of you and Laura that you reposted while you were drunk.

_First Christmas since I moved back to Silas, and this kid convinced me to wear a Grumpy Cat sweater. #Christmas #Silaslife #thiskidisgoingplaces_

“...I thought you unfollowed me on Instagram.”

“I did, but I still look occasionally,” Ell admits. “I knew you wouldn’t have gone back to work at Silas if things weren’t bad, Carmilla.”

You’re more and more aware of the shallowness of your breaths and the tight feeling in your chest the longer you speak with her; you struggle to remain in control.

“You thought things might be bad for me?” You say softly, dangerously, “Why? Was it because you dumped me? Left me out to dry? Homeless?”

Ell bites her lip. “Kitten, I--”

“Don’t you dare call me ‘Kitten’, you two-faced bitch,” you snap. “Was it because you said you wanted nothing to do with me? That I was a loser? After six _years_ , everything we’d been through, everything you promised me, that you said you didn’t give a shit what happens to me? Did it really take an Instagram post after four months to realize I _might not be alright?”_

The phone has gone back to her lockscreen, and you see it’s a picture of her dancing, obviously a professional shot. It makes Ell look like a porcelain figurine in a music box. You slam it on the stage, the casing preventing it from breaking.

You wish she would start yelling. But, you know that she won’t. It was always so hard to win an argument with her, even when you were right, because she was so calm. It’s infuriating.

“...That’s not fair, Carmilla,” she says softly. “You know it isn’t. I hated how we ended things, but I’m here _now_ and I want to make this right--”

“You only want to make this right to make yourself feel better,” you answer. “Ell, I don’t want anything to do with you. Ever. Can you get that through your head?”

Ell sighs, reaching forward to grab the phone. “I guess we’re done here, then.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“I’ll still be in town for a few days if you change your mind.”

“Whatever. Can you just go?”

Ell puts her phone in her pocket and, as she walks up the aisle to the doors, she bumps into Laura, who opened it at the same time she was reaching for the handle.

“Oh! Sorry, sweetie, did I startle you?”

“...Uh, no. Nope. I was volunteered to be the one to check up on you guys and see what was taking so long.”

“I’m sorry I interrupted your rehearsal. I was just leaving.”

“Ell has a dance company or something to go back to,” you add bitterly, and Ell hangs her head and walks out. The kids all stare at her as she walks past, then they walk back in and sit down.

“Sorry, guys. We can get started.”

Danny raises her hand.

“Yeah, Danny?”

“Did you just say that lady worked at a dance company? As in, you personally _know a choreographer_ and you let her walk away?”

“We can’t use her to help choreograph the show,” you answer. “End of discussion.”

“But--”

_“End of discussion.”_


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy season 2 guys! :D

You can’t remember what you did at the rehearsal.

You can’t remember walking back to the apartment.

You can’t remember walking up the stairs and opening the door.

All you’re aware of is a tightness as the events of the day crash like a weight against your chest.

Someone. You need to talk to someone. Laura? No, that wouldn’t be right. You can’t let her see you like this. Betty. You need to talk to Betty.

As you sit down at your computer desk, you try to type in the address bar; your hands are trembling too much and it takes a few tries to get onto Facebook and send her a message.

**Carmilla Karnstein: Betty? BETTY.**

**Carmilla Karnstein: Betty, I need to skype you RIGHT NOW.**

You can’t wait for her to respond; your leg is jiggling like crazy and your entire body feels like it’s vibrating. You get up and grab a bottle of vodka from the fridge, collapsing back in your chair to read the message.

**Elizabeth Spielsdorf: Sure. You know my username.**

You take a long drink; it numbs you enough that you can log in and call her on the first try.

As soon as Betty’s face pops up on screen, her eyes widen before her shocked expression becomes a mask of artificial calm. You must look pretty bad.

“Hey, Carmilla. Are you okay?”

“I...I...”

“How much of that have you had to drink?” Betty asks gently.

“I don’t know. I just grabbed it.” 

“Well, can you talk to me while you put it away?” Betty inquires.

Her voice is low, soft, and soothing. You nod and slowly get up, “Sure. I can do that.”

“I’m going to ask you some questions while you do that. What’s your name?”

“What kind of fucking question is that?” you respond as you walk to the kitchen.

“Just trust me, okay?”

“...Carmilla. My name is Carmilla Karnstein.” You open the fridge and put the bottle back in.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a director at Silas High School. And I teach English.” You close the fridge and make your way back to your computer chair.

“...Okay, one more thing. Can you breathe with me? In...out...like this.”

You follow her. You’re not sure how long.

“Carmilla, you feeling better?”

“Not really, but I can breathe again, so...thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like...like I’m seeing things underwater. From a great distance.”

Betty nods. “Sounds like disassociation. Classic symptom of a panic attack.”

“How are you such an expert?”

“Took a seminar once for teaching. You’d be surprised how many teenagers have them...you think you can talk about it?”

“Ell showed up to the rehearsal today,” you say flatly.

“Are you _serious?_ How is she? I really missed--” she notices your expression, stops, and smiles sheepishly.

“Hey, she never did anything to me. So why was she…?”

“She found out I was back at Silas and she wanted to ‘make things right’, whatever that means.”

Betty leans in a little, “So, did she mean get back together, or…?”

You narrow your eyes. “Jesus Christ, Betty, this is my life, not an episode of _The Young and the Restless.”_

Betty holds up her hands, “Hey, can you blame me? I set you two up. I’m the _captain_ of that ship. Not to mention, you know you both were so in love it was kind of sickening.”

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, Captain Spielsdorf, but your ship has been sunk since September.”

“If she hasn’t left town, I still think you should talk to her.”

You nod, pretending to consider it. “Hmmm. Sure, that’s a great idea. And maybe afterwards I can go ice skating in Hell.”

Betty leans in even more, her face filling up the screen. “Hear me out, Carmilla! Ell is a dancer. You know she’s a fantastic one, too. Pick her brain for an hour, see if it gives you any ideas.”

“I really doubt an hour will change the fact that I can’t dance.”

“You know who else can’t dance? Abby Lee Miller. And this is a high school production, Carm. Just learn some terminology.”

Every single bone in your body is screaming _FUCK NO_. Except, you can’t help but hear that one tiny part of you whispering, ‘do it for the kids’. And only the kids. Because you never want to see Ell again. Definitely not.

“...Thanks for talking to me, Betty.”

She smiles. “Does that mean you’ll talk to her?”

“No. It means that I was about to knock back an entire bottle of vodka, and who knows what I would have thought was a good idea then.”

Betty’s smile widens. “Hey, does Skyping me mean that you’re not mad at me anymore?”

You sigh. “Frankly? I don’t have the energy to hate you and Ell at the same time anymore. It’s exhausting.”

“Why, Carmilla, I thought I’d never see you let go of a grudge. I’ll talk to you later, then?”

“Sure. Bye, Betty,” you answer, rolling your eyes. Your hands start shaking again when you go to the phone. In a burst of willpower, you grab that bottle of vodka again and dump it into the sink, before you take the phone again and fumble with the buttons.

_Carmilla (5:15 PM): You. Me. Old place, 3:30 tomorrow._

* * *

 

The old place is a little cafe called Lola’s. It was a pretty popular hangout spot when you were in high school, despite the fact that it looked like a grandmother’s living room, mostly because the food was fantastic and it was the only place in town that had an open mic that wasn’t a dive bar. You and Ell used to play here every Friday night.

As soon as you walk in, you see Ell at a table in the corner, all bundled up--right down to a hat with ear flaps. She’s sitting ramrod straight.

“...I see you remember the old place, Ell.”

Ell sees you and smiles wistfully. “Of course I remember.”

You grab a chair, turning it around so your chin is resting on the backrest. The barrier between the two of you is somewhat comforting. You look at each other, expressionless, before Ell finally speaks again.

“...Do you remember the last time we were here? When you gave me...oh gosh, what did you call it...a ‘pre-engagement ring’? Which you only did to convince me to help you egg your mom’s car, but it was still nice.”

You do. You also notice that she isn’t wearing it.

“Ell, I didn’t come here to talk about that. In fact, it’s making me like you even less.”

Ell winces. “Sorry. You’re right.” She sighs, “Can we order something, at least? I’ll pay--”

“I don’t need you to pay,” you snap.

“...Carmilla, I wasn’t suggesting you _can’t_ , I’m trying to be _polite.”_

Even you can realize that you were being a little unfair, but there is no way you’re admitting it.

“Whatever,” you grumble, “sure. I’ll order for us.”

“Don’t you want to know what I want, then?” Ell asks.

You give her a look. Really? _Really?_

“Could I please have an espresso macchiato with caramel, sweetie, and skim milk? And please, don’t worry if you can’t do the little milk leaf right. It’s fine,” you answer, in a perfect imitation of Ell’s voice.

“...I really am that predictable, huh?”

“Six years, Ell. Six.” You get up and walk to the counter, ringing the little bell.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes--oh, hi, Miss Karnstein!”

 _“Perry?_ You work here?” She’s wearing an apron, wiping flour off her hands.

“My parents own Lola’s.” She points to herself and smiles, “See? _Lola’s?”_

So that was why it was called Lola’s. And it explained Perry’s unnaturally good baking skills.

“Oookay. So, I would like a caramel macchiato with skim milk and a cup of coffee. Black.”

“Of course!” She hums to herself as she begins making the drinks. “Oh! Laura, Danny, and LaF are over there,” she points to their table, “doing homework if you wanted to say ‘hello’. Here!”

She hands you the drinks. You put your head down and walk back to your table, hoping they don’t notice you.

“Oh, hey, Miss K!”

Of _course._ And right when you were about to sit down. You turn around and force a smile.

“Hello, LaFontaine, Laura, Danny. Doing your homework?”

“We were going to start studying for our Jonathan Swift test,” Laura says, “what are you doing here?”

“Oh. Uh, just…” You look at Ell, “...Business meeting.”

Ell gives a wave. Laura seems to have just realized who she was. She returns her wave with a jerk of the hand before burying her face in her book.

“Thank you, Carmilla,” Ell says, taking a sip of the macchiato and smacking her lips softly, leaving a smudge of red lipstick on the glass. “So...why did you invite me here?”

You sit down. “You wanted to make things ‘right’?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then you’re going to give me a crash course on choreography and then never speak to me again.”

Ell tilts her head to the side. “What do you mean, a ‘crash course’?”

Good question.

“Just...tell me how to choreograph a show. Give me some terminology. I don’t know.”

“Neither do I, to be honest. Um...well, I have taught some dance classes for kids…”

“Really? Since when?”

“It was after we...you know, you left. I did some volunteer work teaching dance classes for at-risk youth. To take my mind off things.”

Yeah, that sounded like Ell.

“And this helps me how…?”

“You want to know the secret to easy choreography that looks good?”

You nod. She leans in closer.

“Lifts. All the lifts.”

You nod. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Laura looking at Ell. It’s like she’s trying to set her on fire with her mind. You turn your head, and Laura immediately hides her face in her book again.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” You look back at Ell, but, once again, in your peripheral vision, you catch Laura peeking her eyes over the top of her textbook. “So, lifts?”

“Absolutely. Lifts are deceptively easy, and they look _really_ impressive. An audience loves a well-executed lift.”

You nod. “So tell me how to teach it to them and we should be good.”

“Carmilla, you realize you need to be able to show them what to do, right?”

“Not every choreographer does. Abby Lee Miller--”

“Has assistants, and her kids are the best dancers in the country. Who told you that you could just learn the names of dances and then magically teach them?”

Betty was a choreographer. She had to know what she was doing when she told you that. Wait. Did Betty bullshit all of that to get you to--

“Dammit, Betty,” you grumble.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

You look at each other in silence, the only sound being the dull noise of placing a coffee cup down on the table.

“...So the way I see this, you have two options,” Ell says at last.

“Such as?”

“I can teach you how to dance, and then you can teach them--”

“Hell to the fucking no,” you say immediately. You’re a good judge of your own willpower, and you and Ell alone, pressed together? Nope.

Ell wrinkles her nose at the language. “Well, then we can cut out the middleman and I can go to the rehearsals myself.”

“So, you want to be choreographer.”

Ell shrugs. “I don’t care if you put me in the program. This is my gift to you. To say I’m sorry for everything.”

You clench your jaw. “Fine. But, I do not want to talk to you, I do not even want you to look at me, and we interact as little as possible if we need to at all.”

“Deal. Wow,” Ell looks back at Laura’s table as well, “those kids must be very loyal if they hate me so much.”

“Eh, the gingers don’t really care, it’s more Laura.”

Ell squints as she looks at her.

“Don’t make it so obvious, Ell.”

“Carmilla, I noticed her staring at us whenever she thought we weren’t watching,” Ell whispers. “Her friends keep snapping their fingers in front of her face and arguing with her to pay attention. She seems familiar though--”

“Laura came to see all our shows.”

“Ooooh! I remember her now. She’s a sweetheart. Always wanted to meet you too, though, and she’d get so disappointed. It was adorable.”

You shrug. “Even if I walked out after the show to meet anyone, Mother would have grabbed me and pulled me out before I could.”

“Well--I need to go and start working on the choreography. When do you want me?”

“I’ll call you with a time.”

“Good.” Ell gets up. “Here’s the money for the coffee,” she hands you a twenty-dollar bill. As she walks past Laura’s table again, she smiles at the three girls. LaFontaine and Danny return it and Laura only raises her eyebrows. Ell looks back at you.

“Can I tell them?”

You shrug, “Sure.”

“I just wanted to say that I’ll be very happy to be working with all of your on your dancing. I _love_ Grease.”

Laura is looking back at you now. You shrug again.

“Cool, we have a choreographer now!” LaFontaine says with a grin. “LaFontaine, nice to meet you.”

Danny smiles at her. “Danny Lawrence. Should probably let you know I’m a terrible dancer.”

“Oh, I’m sure you just need a teacher. I can tell from one look at you that you have the perfect body to be a dancer. Your friends, too.”

If there’s one thing Ell is good at, it’s getting on peoples’ good sides. Even Laura softens slightly. But, only slightly. Enough to grumble, “See you.”

Ell nods, unzips her coat slightly to give her room to breathe, and, as she turns to walk away, you can swear that you see a chain with a ring hanging from it around her neck.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning, Laura walks in before homeroom with a cup of coffee.

“Well, you’re here early, cupcake.”

Laura hums nonchalantly. Or tries to--it seems forced. “I thought I’d bring you coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“Yep. The snack stand sells it in the mornings.” Laura sits down at the desk right in front of you. “Want it?”

“What’s the occasion…?”

“Oh, nothing.” Laura folds her hands in her lap, smiling sweetly, “Just thought I’d do something nice for my favorite teacher. Especially after yesterday, haha…”

“ _Aaaah,_ and her true intentions reveal themselves,” you say, smiling at Laura’s attempt at denying it. And failing at it miserably.

“What true intentions? I just wanted to do something for you after you had a rough day. Being forced to work with your ex can’t be fun…”

“No. It’s not.”

Laura nods. “So, out of curiosity...what happened there…?”

You lean back in your desk chair. “You really think I’m going to spill my tragic backstory because you bought me a coffee?”

“No. Because I threw you a Christmas party. So,” Laura nudges the cup forward a little, “It’s good to talk about it anyway. I bet you haven’t told anyone, have you?”

You lift an eyebrow, because you have no idea how this eighteen-year-old has managed to do it, but here you are actually considering telling her--

“...There isn’t much to tell. She was getting work and I wasn’t.”

Nevermind. You are telling her. Betty never pushed you, Mother was just glad it was over, but now here was Laura, nudging you. And if you had _really_ wanted to keep it under wraps, why would you be so willing to spill your guts to one of your students? So you take the coffee from Laura’s desk. She’d already shared enough with you; what was one more thing only the two of you knew?

“Yeah,” you continue, “we were in our last year of college, and Ell was getting work, and I wasn’t. For months. And that turns her into a huge--” You stop. “Well, a--”

“--A raging bad person?” Laura interjects. You smile appreciatively.

“Yes. She was. One day I was taking a nap on the couch and I feel Ell dump a pile of clothes on me, and next thing I know she’s shouting at me that she never wants to see me again.” To be honest it was all kind of fuzzy. You’d been in a pretty deep sleep when Ell woke you up and the whole breakup afterward was confusing and disorienting. You remember her practically sobbing, telling you it wouldn’t work, telling you she didn’t care what happened to you, that she just wanted you out of her house...your brow furrows at the unpleasant memories and Laura tilts her head.

“...I’m sorry,” Laura says softly.

“Eh, don’t be. Things happen.”

“Still, to have to work with her now after that. And it’s especially bad when it happens to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Like you.”

You’re not stupid. Laura’s motives for buttering you up and trying to convince you not to work with your ex are not entirely altruistic. You appreciate the support, though, even if it’s selfish.

“Some things are more important,” you answer. And, because you don’t want to deal with Laura’s needling at rehearsal, you play her emotions like a fiddle and finish off with, “...Helping you with your career, for instance. It’s worth a little awkwardness.”

And Laura smiles warmly, some of her insecurity fading away. “Thank you, Miss Karnstein.”

“Don’t mention it. Really. ‘Thank you, Miss Karnstein’ should be your catchphrase.”

“Well, if you don’t want me to thank you so much, stop doing stuff I should thank you for.”

The bell rings; more students file in. Laura goes to sit with Danny and Perry, and you mentally prepare yourself for Ell.

* * *

 

“Okay, everyone, a lot of you met our new choreographer, very briefly, two days ago.”

You’re standing in front of the cast, who sit in the first few rows of seats. Your arms are crossed in front of you, and Ell is standing to your right. “She can introduce herself.”

Ell smiles, “Good afternoon, everyone. My name is Miss Schraeder, and I have been doing musical theater professionally for about two years now. I’ve danced in the ensemble of several shows and am currently part of a dance company in New York City, which has graciously offered to let me stay here until Grease is over. I am very happy to work with all of you!”

Of course, the cast was eating it up. You’ve already accepted that they’re all going to like Ell better than you.

Well, maybe not _all_. Laura still doesn’t look like she’s liking Ell all that much.

“This is a dance rehearsal,” you say, “so Miss Schraeder is going to be handling you guys today. I’ll be watching if you need me.”

You sit down, and Ell claps her hands excitedly.

“Alright, kids, everyone onstage! We’re going to start with some stretches.”

Once everyone is onstage, Ell says, “Follow my lead! We’ll start with lunges. Just lunge to

your right...now I want you to bend down as far as you can, okay?”

She’s wearing yoga pants and her hair is in a loose bun. As she bends down, for just a fraction of a second you think about how she looks almost more beautiful this way, in one of the rare moments when she isn’t perfect. When a few strands of hair at the nape of her neck have fallen out, and her cammie falls slightly to reveal part of her stomach…

_For the love of God, why am I torturing myself?_

“Alright, now we’re going to stretch out our arms. Just reach above your heads like this...alright. Now, jumping jacks!”

You see them all pause briefly, surprised, before copying Ell’s movements. It quickly turns into a disaster. People are hitting each other; LaFontaine stops at around five jumps and watches everyone else. Danny is watching Kirsch out of the corner of her eye and they look like they’re competing to see who can do it faster.

Laura, to her credit, is actually trying, but being thin does not necessarily mean she has good cardio. All those sweets must be affecting her because, as soon as Ell says ‘stop’, Laura has her hands on her knees and her breathing is ragged.

“Was that...really...necessary?” Laura breathes.

“Now the rest of the dancing will seem easy!” Ell says brightly. “Alright, everyone, I have everything blocked for Hand Jive. Laura, you’re not in this scene, so you can sit down for now.”

You didn’t think Laura was capable of murder before, but now you’re not so sure she’s not at least contemplating it.

“She did that on purpose,” Laura grumbles as she sits down next to you.

“No, she was dance captain when I was in school. Believe me, it doesn’t matter what part you had, she believes very strongly in the jumping jacks thing.”

Laura nods, crossing her arms as she watches.

“First of all, we need to teach you all how to do a lift. Anyone want to volunteer to be my partner for this? They’ll need to be shorter than me.”

You look at Laura with a raised eyebrow.

“Over my dead body, Miss Karnstein,” Laura whispers.

Ell turns around, “Carmilla…”

You are very close to yelling ‘hell to the fucking no’ again, but being in front of a bunch of students just barely succeeds in making you bite your tongue.

“Carmilla, it’s not ideal, but we’ve danced together before. And everyone else here seems too afraid to.”

“Can you blame them? You just met them and now you want to launch some of them in the air.”

That earns a laugh from the kids, which puts you in a better mood, so you shrug and get up.

“Thank you, Carmilla.”

“Yeah, yeah, just get this over with,” you answer, standing in front of Ell. She puts her hands on your waist and you try to ignore the weird feelings it’s bringing up.

“We start with a straight lift, just to get you all comfortable with it. The boys will put their hands on the girls’ waists, and the girls should be keeping their backs as straight as possible--that is very important. Then, just,” here you feel yourself being lifted in the air, “lift!”

You’re back on the ground, and Ell steps so she’s at your side. “See? But, make sure you’re smiling, which I’m sure Carmilla was not.”

You look at Ell, scowling, and Ell can’t help but laugh. “Okay, guys, get together with a partner and practice that. And Danny--Lawrence, I mean, not the boy playing Danny in the show--I want you dancing with Kenickie, since you need to have chemistry with him, anyway.”

Kirsch and Danny glare daggers at each other.

“I’ll be walking around and seeing how this goes,” Ell says, rubbing her hands together. “Carmilla, feel free to walk around too. Since you’re in charge, I mean.”

Obviously, this lift is like, the easiest possible thing for them to start with, and everyone is doing it with ease, for the most part. Even Kirsch gets the hang of it quickly, sailing Danny into the air.

“Great job, both of you!” Ell says.

“Kirsch,” Danny is lifted again, “you are surprisingly not a complete spaz.”

“What, it’s just lifting. I’ve got muscles.”

“Well, it’s still very good. You’ll be flipping her in no time.”

“Wait, _flip?”_ Danny says. Ell grins.

“I can show you.”

You catch the exchange and roll your eyes. When it came to dancing, Ell could be a bit of a show off.

“Stand still,” Ell says, and when Kirsch gets out of the way, Ell grabs Danny and flips her, landing her back on her feet.

“So?”

“That was the _coolest thing I’ve ever done_.”

“Great! Kirsch, why don’t you try it?”

“Wait, wait, I never said--”

But, Kirsch grabs her and does it with ease.

“Kirsch, how did you pick that up so fast?” Danny asks. 

He shrugs, “I don’t know, I just watched her.”

“Well...that was actually kind of impressive.”

And Kirsch grins, holding up a hand. Danny rolls her eyes, but taps his palm.

“...Oh my God, Ell, you got them to high five,” you say, walking up to her. “How did you do that?”

“What, like it’s hard?” Ell says with a smirk.

Okay, this banter is getting a little too familiar. You step back.

“If you spent as much time with those two as I have, you would know that it is,” you answer. “Now, move on.”

Ell’s mouth quirks to the side, and she goes back to working with the kids.

* * *

 

The rehearsal is over. Laura is lingering behind a little to say goodbye.

“...I still don’t like her being here,” Laura grumbles.

“Wow, cupcake, is it me or have your eyes turned green?” you joke.

“Did you hear what she said to me when she worked with me? That I had,” here Laura did air quotes, “‘Trouble with the moving of limbs’?”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Confession: I may have mentioned that to her when you weren’t looking.”

“That’s not nice,” Laura says, frowning.

“Come on, creampuff. If it makes you feel better,” you bend forward, just slightly, so you’re at her eye level, “that bunched up face you make when you’re jealous is _adorable_ , buttercup.”

Laura looks away from your grin, mumbles a goodbye, and walks out. You turn around with a satisfied smile.

“...She hates me, doesn’t she?”

You look at Ell, who’s picking up water bottles from the floor.

“Eh, she’s just loyal. That’s all.”

“You both seem rather close.”

You raise an eyebrow at her. Ell’s gaze is steady.

“I resent the implication,” you say, retreating back to that clinical tone Mother uses that is very effective at shutting down a lane of conversation.

Ell, however, is used to it. “I am not accusing you of doing anything wrong, Carmilla. I’m just telling you to be careful. If your mother thought you were having a relationship with a student--”

“We haven’t done anything that would suggest that.”

“Carmilla, I heard you call her cupcake, buttercup, adorable, and she talks to you during breaks. And sits next to you whenever she’s not onstage.”

“Look, she’s…” You walk closer to her, your voice lowering to a whisper, a hand running through your hair. “...She has a little crush on me, alright? But, she’s in the closet.”

“Oh,” Ell says softly, pursing her lips slightly.

“I’m just trying to make her feel better about it, is all. She was on the verge of failing a class because she was in a cycle of self-loathing.”

“Well, that’s _awful_...I’m sorry. I should have never said anything to you, Carmilla. This is your space.”

And you start cleaning up, but you can’t ignore Ell’s look.

“...What?”

“Nothing. I just...I like you like this.” Ell says, looking away shyly.

You toss a candy wrapper into the trash can, “Like what?”

“Just...caring. About this place. About your students. About something. Having something you’re passionate about, you know?”

“What, about theater? Kind of been my thing for awhile, Ell.”

“You weren’t for a long time, Carmilla,” Ell answers softly, and you stiffen. Because you know the longer Ell is here, the more inevitable having this conversation becomes. But, you’re not ready. You’ll never be ready, but especially not now. Not when you still have to take the long way home to avoid stopping in the liquor store.

“Ell, I have a certain way I like cleaning up, so...why don’t you go home.”

“Are you sure--”

“Yes,” you say firmly, and Ell looks at you. With a sigh, she puts on her coat, her hat, and her gloves.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, kitten.”

You don’t tell her not to call you that. You blame it on being too tired.


	15. Chapter 15

You get a text from Ell that night.

_Cinnamon Roll (8:31 PM): Hey Carmilla, do you mind me asking you a question?_

_Carmilla (8:35 PM): Other than the ‘I want to avoid talking to you as much as possible’ thing, sure._

_Cinnamon Roll (8:35 PM): Right. Sorry. Were you doing something? This can wait._

You look down at the styrofoam tray of chicken lo mein in your lap. You look up at the Mickey Rooney movie marathon you were about to watch on TCM because nothing good is on TV.

_Carmilla (8:37 PM): Call me. It’ll be faster._

About thirty seconds later, you’re picking up the phone.

“...Hello?”

“Carmilla! So, I’ll get to the point. Have you decided on costumes or sets? Do we need to figure out a fundraiser for that? Because I was talking to Betty--”

“Wait, you were talking to Betty? When?”

“After I went home? She Skyped me first a couple of days ago--”

“I will need to call you back, Ell,” you interrupt, hanging up the phone, walking up to your computer, and Skype call Betty.

“...WHAT THE HELL, BETTY?”

“It’s great talking to you too, Carmilla. And how is the show? How has working with Ell been?”

“You should know, considering the fact that you’ve been _Skyping her_. Seriously?”

Betty leans back in her desk chair. “...I didn’t know I had to ask you for permission before hearing from one of my former students. Who, for the record, I’ve known longer than you.”

“You knew her for like, a week before me Betty.”

“Still.”

“Look…” you sigh, “I don’t like you talking to Ell about the show behind my back, okay? She calls me and talks about how she talked to you about fundraising for sets and costumes and I’m the director here now--which as I recall you foisted upon me yourself at the last second--so don’t do that.”

Betty nods in understanding. “...So, what I’m hearing is, don’t talk about the show with Ell without you knowing.”

“Yes.”

Betty looks at her screen, making a few clicks of the mouse. “Fine.”

“Wait, Betty, what are you--”

Ell’s face appears onscreen.

“DAMMIT, BETTY, THAT ISN’T WHAT I MEANT.”

Ell frowns, “I’m sorry, should I log off? I can log off.”

“No, Ell, you’re not logging off,” Betty says firmly. “We are in a production meeting. Carmilla, this ‘only talking if absolutely necessary’ thing isn’t going to work. Either you guys get closure on whatever happened with,” Betty gestures vaguely, “this _thing_ you guys had--and yes, Carmilla, that means talking about _feelings_ \--or you can get over it and work together now as professionals.”

“Who are you, my mom?” you snap.

“No. Because has it occurred to you that if your _mom_ finds out that Ell is here, she’s not going to be happy?”

Your blood runs cold. How could you not think about that?

“...Carmilla, I wouldn’t tell her. For obvious reasons. I mean, I’ve been staying with my parents--”

“Your _parents?_ I thought they hated you?”

“No, they hated that I was with _you_ , remember? They think I’m staying here on an extended vacation since we haven’t really...spoken much...since college. So if _they_ knew I was spending time with you...well, they wouldn’t be happy.”

Ell says it so matter-of-factly, and it’s not an accusation, but you still feel a little guilt. She liked her parents. She barely spoke to them for four years because of you.

“Focus, not-in-love-birds,” Betty interrupts. “Look, the point is that you haven’t thought about costumes or set yet, Carmilla. Ell was the one that brought it up. So, I don’t know, maybe you should work with the one that has professional experience? Sorry to pull that card, Carmilla, but there you go.”

You grit your teeth. Ell looks mildly uncomfortable.

“...All I wanted was to suggest a karaoke fundraiser,” Ell says weakly.

“Karaoke?”

“I called Chik-Fil-A. You sign up and do karaoke in the restaurant for tips. And if the people order and say they’re there for the Silas Theater Department, we get half of the money. We did that a few times in high school, remember?”

“You did all of that…?”

“Yesterday? I mean, obviously I would have cancelled if you said no.”

Betty is looking at you. “Got anything to say?”

“Uh...well done you…?”

“Well,” Betty says with a self-satisfied smile, “you _can_ get along. What do you know? I think it’s safe to let you off the leash now. Talk it out.”

“Betty, wait!” you and Ell shout at the same time, but she signs off. You look at each other.

“...So, how has your night been?”  

You can’t help it; you laugh.

Ell tilts her head slightly. “Listen, Carmilla, I _am_ sorry that I went over your head, talking to Betty and the restaurant and everything.”

You shrug.

“I just...I wanted to prove I could help,” Ell continues. “That I didn’t have to be the evil ex and come in and cause this _drama bomb_ that ruins everything like,” here Ell makes an explosion noise, and a motion with her hands, “...you know?”

“Ell,” you answer, “It goes against your DNA not to give one-hundred percent.”

That makes her smile warmly. “Then, do you want me to send a blast email to the cast? Or should you?”

“You have their emails?”

“Of course I made sure I got the cast emails. That’s the first thing you do, isn’t it?”

“Of _course_ you did...use the theater email. The password is ‘password’.”

Ell gives you a look.

“Ell, who is going to want to hack into the email of a high school drama department?”

“...Would it kill you to add a zero to the end, though?”

_“Ell.”_

“Fine, I’ll send the email. And I won’t change the password.”

“Good. Night, cinnamon roll.”

Ell signs off. You sigh and go back to eating your chicken lo mein.

* * *

 

It’s nice letting Ell take care of everything that happens outside of the auditorium; you don’t even think about the fundraiser until you get a phone call a couple of days later.

“...Hello?”

“Carmilla? Where are you?”

“It’s a Saturday. There is no rehearsal today. I am currently in my house.” Wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties, but that was irrelevant.

“Carmilla, we’re doing the fundraiser today! We’re all at Chick-Fil-A right now wondering why you aren’t here.”

“What the _fuck_ , Ell?” You scramble up off the catch, throwing off your shirt, balancing the phone on your shoulder as you dig through your closet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...Did you not get the email? Or the email I sent after that? Or the fact that I put it as an event on the theater department’s gmail account--”

“Okay, _okay_ , I was stupid and it’s my fault. Give me five minutes to get there, alright?”

“Sure, bring music to sing! Laura even brought a keyboard, so you could bring sheet music if you want.”

“Right...right…got to hang up, see you there,” you hang up. The laundry has been neglected for awhile so you struggle into the first pair of pants you find--you’re sure it’s the last clean pair you own--and a grey shirt. Your hair's a mess, and you don’t have time to shower, so you throw on a beanie. After grabbing your sheet music binder, you rush out the door.

There’s already a good crowd of people at the restaurant, from what you can see through the windows before you even walk in. The moment you step through the doors it’s clear the restaurant has become a circus.

Perry and LaFontaine are singing ‘Friendship’ on a karaoke machine on the right side of the restaurant. Over to your left near some booths, there’s apparently a ‘chicken nugget eating contest’. Where, of course, Kirsch and Danny are practically inhaling the stuff. Everyone else seems to have given up, but they’re still cheering them both on.

“Okay...this all looks nice…?”

You see Ell and Laura talking in hushed tones by the counter. “Hey, Ell, Laura!”

They both turn to look at you. And both of their eyes widen.

“Uh, guys, any reason why you look like--” But, then you realize.

The only clean pair of pants in your closet. You look down at yourself.

Your _vinyl_ pants you kept from when you were in Rent.

You are at a school fundraiser wearing vinyl pants that look more like they were spray painted on than pulled on.

“Uh...well, this is awkward,” you say, walking up to them. “So, what were we talking about?”

“Oh...uh...when we should organize the setbuild...yeah, that’s it.”

Laura is still staring.

“Uh...cupcake?”

“Your pants are very shiny!” Laura squeaks, then immediately covers her mouth with her hands.

“...Thanks, Laura. They’re from when I was in Rent,” you answer, and you can’t help the self-satisfied smile this ego boost is giving you. “Hey, Laura, maybe you should go make sure Kirsch and Danny don’t choke trying to out-eat each other.”

“Sure!”

Ell watches Laura walk away. “She is lucky society is so heteronormative, isn’t she?”

“...Probably, yeah. Although you didn’t exactly take these pants in stride, cinnamon roll.”

“I recovered quickly though,” Ell answers, trying to avoid looking directly at you, “You know, since you’re wearing them, maybe we should do ‘Take Me or Leave Me’. For old time’s sake?”

“I think ‘Loathing’ would be more appropriate,” you answer. “Don’t push it, Ell.”

Ell bites her lower lip and goes to tell LaFontaine and Perry to give someone else a turn on the machine. You shake your head and walk up to the counter.

“I’m here for the theater department. I want a spicy chicken deluxe sandwich and large fries. And a cookie.”

Laura is walking back to the counter after stopping by the nugget eating contest.

“...Actually, make it two cookies...no. Three. She’ll eat two.”

Laura stops. “Wait, are you…?”

“For not trying to kill Ell before I got here, cupcake,” you jerk a thumb toward a booth. “Sit.”

Laura grins and backs up into the booth; she trips into it because she’s too busy looking at you.

Okay, so maybe you kind of like the ego boost you get from Laura. Maybe you enjoy spending time with her to put you in a good mood. Big deal.

You sit down.

“This fundraiser seems like it’s going well,” you start.

“Yeah! Other than Kirsch choking.”

“Kirsch _choked?”_

“Yeah, believe it or not I had to give him the heimlich.”

You imagine tiny, petite little Laura, squeezing Kirsch from behind to dislodge a chicken nugget from his throat. “Oh my _God_ , cupcake,” you laugh. “Was he okay?”

“Yeah. Now he and Danny are arguing because Danny said choking counts as a disqualification. I told them to take it outside.”

“You are _unbelievable.”_

The Chick-Fil-A employee brings your tray and sets it down. Laura tilts her head as she reaches into the bag and pulls out a cookie.

“What do you mean?”

“Just...when you want to, you can be one tiny little ball of rage,” you answer with a smirk, unwrapping your chicken sandwich and taking a bite. “I mean, getting in between Kirsch and Xena has to be a little intimidating.”

“I’m tougher than I look. You always got to beware the small ones.”

“Yeah. You need to be tougher or else you’ll be pushed around. Like when tiny dogs are more aggressive. You’re basically a chihuahua.”

“Exact--wait,” Laura narrows her eyes, pausing with her teeth around a chunk of cookie. “Did you just call me a chihuahua?”

“Chihuahuas are cute,” you answer, “and you are cute.”

That seems like enough of an answer for Laura, who goes back to nibbling on her cookie happily, raving about how gooey and warm it was. She stops, looking at you thoughtfully.

“...That’s the beanie my mom gave you,” Laura says.

“Wait, this?” You take it off your head. You hadn’t even realized it. But, it was. “Right. Ell handed this to me after Rent and told me that it was a gift from your mom.”

Laura nods. “Yeah. I made it for her...you know, when she lost her hair. But, then she told me to give it to you. She didn’t think she needed it anymore.”

“So you handed it to Ell when I didn’t come out.”

“Uh-huh.”

The conversation has taken a turn for the awkward, and Laura looking all sullen makes you want to do something about it. You put the hat on the table.

“Here. Take it.”

“What?”

“It was your mom’s. You deserve to have it.”

Laura is looking at you with such pure, unmasked adoration, that you are really hoping no one is watching. She takes it, holding it in her hands for a moment. But instead of putting it on, she shifts so that her legs are off the floor and she can reach across the table.

“Laura, what are you--” she pulls the hat over your eyes.

“It was a gift. Keep it?”

You pull it out of your eyes. “God, cupcake, and here I was calling you a tiny ball of rage--”

“Carmilla, are you going to sing anything?” you hear Ell ask from across the restaurant, holding the karaoke microphone in hand. Laura frowns in Ell’s direction.

“...As fun as this lunch date was, cupcake, it probably isn’t wise to spend too much one on one time together.”

Laura looks down at her lap, swallowing the last of her cookie in one gulp. “Right. Right. Miss Schraeder wanted to do the setbuild next Saturday, by the way, if that’s cool?”

“Sure--here,” you shove the bag toward her, “I wasn’t that hungry. Take my cookie, too.”

“Oh my God, Miss Karnstein, you are the _best,”_ Laura gushes, shoving another cookie in her mouth and chewing happily.

“Have fun,” you answer, getting up and walking over to the karaoke machine. “Any particular reason you want me here, Ell?”

“I did a song. You should, too.”

“I don’t even know what to sing.”

“You know exactly what to sing,” Ell says with a grin, “and it happens to be a song on this machine.”

“...You’re not serious, are you? Shouldn’t they be from musicals, anyway?”

“Carmilla,” Ell answers, shoving the microphone in your hands, “you don’t think I would plan a karaoke night without making sure you sang Whitney Houston, do you?”

“Ell, don’t you dare--”

She’s already pressed the button on the machine and the music starts. Everyone in the restaurant is looking at you. With Laura staring in amused awe, and Ell doubled over laughing, you start belting ‘I Will Always Love You’ to the crowded restaurant.

You’ll kill Ell later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Loathing' is actually 'What is this Feeling' from Wicked--I chose to have Carmilla call it Loathing in this chapter so the joke wasn't lost on any non-musical theatre buffs reading. :)


	16. Chapter 16

Step one: if you’re going to do a setbuild, know what you want your set to look like.

Step two: acquire someone with the skills necessary to handle power tools and build the set.

You have, unfortunately, neglected both of these steps. And now you’ve got a week to figure it out.

You skip step one for now. What’s the point of designing a set with no way to build it? Besides, you have an idea about who to get for step two, believe it or not. Only problem? You have literally never spoken to him before.

His name is Mr. Straka. He apparently started working as the auto and wood shop teacher a couple of years ago. You’ve heard his name before from Kirsch and Will; he’s the teacher in charge of supervising Zeta meetings and ‘a totally awesome teacher-bro’. You are not sure if this makes you more or less nervous to talk to him.

You walk in during your free period and knock on the door; you hear what sounds like a power saw before it’s turned off.

“Come in!”

You open the door, your foot hitting laminate wood flooring rather than the linoleum tile of the hallway. “Uh...Mr. Straka?”

He turns around; he had been hunched over a worktable.

“Oh, hey, you’re the teacher that started this year, right?” He walks forward, holding out his hand. “Nice to officially meet you! Not going to lie, it’s cool not being the new guy any longer. Call me ‘Theo.’”

You shake his hand. Theo is young, probably only a couple of years older than you; he’s wearing a plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up, tucked into his jeans that are splattered with grease and oil. He raises his protective goggles so that they’re resting on the top of his head.

“So, what brings you down to wood shop?”

“I was kind of hoping you could help me out--”

“With the show?”

“Yeah. Yes, the show.”

“Oh, cool man, cool! Betty has been using me the past couple of years. I kept telling myself I was going to talk to you about it, but--you know, I’m handling two electives by myself, plus the Zetas, so I’ve been busy, you know?”

You nod quickly. “Not too busy to help, I hope…?”

“Of course not. Two of my kids are leads in the show. I always tell them, ‘a Zeta never lets a Zeta down’. I’ll give you a hand. I’m guessing you want me to help you with the car?”

“The car?”

“You know, Greased Lightning.”

“You are offering to build us a racecar?”

Theo shakes his head, “No, of course not. But, we can build something like it. All you need is the shell, and then you can put a little motor in it that runs on a remote. Very easy.”

You cannot believe your luck. All this time you’ve had a fantastic resource and you haven’t even thought to use him until now.

“Wow, Theo, thanks. And can you help build the set?”

“Sure! Get me the plans and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good. How far in advance do you need them? Because the setbuild is Saturday--”

“Saturday?”

Yeah, you’ve been pushing your luck. “Can’t let your Zetas down, right?”

Theo crosses his arms, moving his jaw as he thinks. “...I’ll do my best. Can’t be anything too complicated, though. I’ll need to make sure we have all the materials.”

“Sure. I can do that.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t got anything to do Saturday. I’ll get started with my students on the car.”

 _“Thank you._ I would have come to you sooner, but I was working through the ‘I have no idea what I’m doing’ problem first.”

“Well, I understand. See you Saturday.”  

You thank him again, leave, go to the bathroom, and call Ell.

“Carm?”

“Ell. Skype me. We have until Saturday to do set design for the show.”

“But, shouldn’t you--”

“Has it not occurred to you yet that I still have no idea what the fuck I’m doing?”

“...Alright. I’ll Skype you after school, okay? Don’t stress, Kitten, we’ll figure it out.”

* * *

 

You _do_ design the set with Ell, and reblock the show accordingly, all before Saturday, thanks to a few all-night, coffee-fueled Skype sessions. So, you both show up to the auditorium at nine-thirty AM, a half hour before all the kids, so you can set up.

“Carmilla, hey! Who’s the girl?”

“This is the choreographer,” you answer, “Ell, this is Theo.”

“Hello!” Ell answers, shaking Theo’s hand warmly, “You’re here early.”

“I couldn’t wait to show you!” Theo answers, “Watch this.”

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a remote control. He presses a button, moves the little control pad forward with his thumb. Ell is the first to notice.

“Carmilla, look!” Ell exclaims, putting a hand on your shoulder and pointing to the stage, “He made the car!”

You look to the stage; he _did_ make the car. It didn’t look real--it was too small to be real--but it would sit two people comfortably, it was car shaped, and, most importantly, it moved.

“Oh my God, Theo, you are a lifesaver. It looks fantastic!” Ell gushes, and you’re very glad she’s here to do all the thanking for both of you, because you’ve never been good at that.

“Well, thank _you_. Ell, was it--”

“Back off, she’s gay,” you snap, and Theo takes a step backwards, holding up his hands.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you both were--”

“We’re not,” Ell says, her turn to interrupt today. “Should we set everything up for today?”

“Uh...sure. I’ll go get the power saw plugged in.”

Ell turns on you as Theo walks away, “Carmilla, that was a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“I knew you’d be too nice to say ‘no’ when it started getting annoying for you.”

Ell smiles at you and leans in with a hand on your shoulder to whisper, “Thanks for looking out for me then, Kitten,” before humming happily as she walks down the aisle toward the stage.

You don’t even let yourself think about it; you crack your knuckles. Set build time.

* * *

 

“Okay guys, this set is going to have a level you can walk on,” Theo explains to the cast, which is crowded around him and his toolbox, “That will involve a lot of sawing and a lot of screwing.”

The guys in the cast snicker as the girls roll their eyes. Theo ignores them.

“First rule of power tools: _always_ wear protective goggles at all times. And unless you’re a professional--like me--always have someone around in case something goes wrong.”

As he goes into a demonstration of the saw, Ell nudges you. “...Carmilla, are you going to help with the building, or are you going to paint?”

“Paint. Definitely paint. Set builds are not something I have much experience with.”

Ell gives you a confused look.

“...Ell, do I need to remind you that we used set builds as an opportunity to make out in the loft?”

Ell lifts her head a little. _Aaaah, right._ She looks back at Theo.

“Well, if you get bored,” Ell answers flatly.

_Holy shit wait what?_

You’re staring at her; her eyes are on the demonstration Theo is giving, but you see she’s trying not to smirk.

Payback for the vinyl pants, you guess.

You are _also_ aware of the fact that Laura overheard the little exchange, from the way she’s looking at you both and wrinkling her nose. Yikes. That’s awkward.

“...Okay, anyone who wants to help me with the set, follow me, and anyone who wants to do painting can...I don’t know, I guess Miss Karnstein can handle that.”

“Huh?” You shake your head. “Right. Yeah, sure. Laura, you want to help me out with painting?”

“Sure!” She rubs her hands together excitedly. In her overalls and button down, with her hair in a ponytail, she looks kind of adorable. “Let’s do it! What do you want me to do?”

“We need to make some signs. ‘Rydell High’ and whatever, you know? So, you’re going to go up to the loft,” you point up to the space above the right side of the stage, “and hand the paint cans down to Ell. Okay?”

Laura looks at Ell. “...Sure. Sure, I can do that.” Laura climbs up the ladder, into the loft. You stand next to Ell, both of you looking up.

“Are you sure you want to wear that? It could get ruined during the painting,” Ell asks.

“What? My phases of the moon shirt?”

“I thought it was your favorite shirt. You wore it all the time at home.”

“...’Home’?” you answer, raising an eyebrow. Ell blushes, eyes widening, and, before she can stammer out some sort of answer, her phone rings. She pulls it out of her pocket.

“Parents! Carmilla, I’m going to need to take this in the hallway. I don’t want them to hear power tool noises when they think I’m at the mall.”

“That’s fine, Ell. Perry!” Perry stops what she was doing and walks over. “Perry, I need to go grab some pans and brushes. Can you stand here and grab the paint from Laura?”

“Of course, Miss Karnstein. Happy to help!” Perry stands at the foot of the ladder. Ell goes into the hallway and you go into the prop room. There’s a shelf in there that has craft supplies on it. You start washing the dried up gunk off most of the brushes, and you find a little plastic container to drop them all into, when you hear a crash and a scream.

_“Oh my God!”_

“What the Hell happened?” you shout. You have a lot of bad scenarios in your head. Power saws, power screwdrivers, staple hammers...the possibilities for grievous injuries (and lawsuits) are endless.

What you see as you run out of the prop room almost makes you drop your stuff; for a crazy moment you think it’s blood, until you realize that it’s just paint. Red paint. All over Perry’s head, her chest, and arms. Laura is peeking over the edge of the loft, looking absolutely horrified.

“Oh my God, Perry, I’m so sorry!”

You look up. “Laura, you dropped paint on her?”

“It was an accident!”

Perry, meanwhile, is acting as though she was covered in real blood. “All...all over the stage...I sh-should get cleaned up...I need a t-towel…”

Everything has stopped and gravitated toward Perry at this point. You hear Ell pushing her way through the crowd.

“Is everything okay? I heard--oh my. Is that…? Paint. Paint, thank God.” Ell takes a breath.

“Okay, guys, it’s just paint. Nothing to see here, come on. Move! Get back to work people.” You shoo everyone away. Then, you call LaFontaine back.

“She’s your friend. Calm her down and clean her up? The showers in the gym are open.”

“Will do, Miss Karnstein. Hey, Perr,” LaFontaine, ignoring the paint they are getting all over themselves, takes her hand gently. “We’re going to clean you up, okay? Just follow me...there you go…”

Perry, still shaky, follows LaFontaine out of the auditorium.

“Will, Kirsch, you’re on cleanup duty,” you continue, “and Laura, _come down here.”_

Laura begrudgingly climbs down the ladder. “Yes?”

“Hallway. Now.”

Ell comes with the two of you. You sigh, crossing your arms. Laura leans against the wall across from you.

“...Okay, cupcake, what happened?”

“I don’t _know_ what happened. I...I tripped, the paint can tipped in my hands, it fell all over Perry. I feel really bad about it. Is she going to be okay?”

“She’s going to be fine, honey,” Ell interrupts, “it was just paint.”

Laura looks at Ell and frowns, looking down at the floor. You notice Ell’s eyes widen a little.

“Wait. Laura, was the lid on the paint can?”

“Yes?”

Ell bites her lip, steals a quick look at you, and continues. “That’s interesting. Because it’s really hard to get a lid off a paint can. They’re hammered on.” Ell turns toward you, “Remember? We would need to pry them open with a screwdriver. It always took us _forever.”_

You nod. “Ell, where are you going with this?”

“I’m just saying, it would be hard to tip a paint can unless she wanted paint to spill out.”

“Are you accusing me of purposely _dumping paint on one of my best friends?”_ Laura says, her hands balling into fists.

“Uh, Ell, you probably don’t want to see tiny ball of rage mode,” you whisper, leaning in closer to her. Ell looks at you.

“I’m not accusing Laura of dumping paint on Perry. I’m accusing her of trying to dump paint on _me.”_

“You? Ell, that’s--” But, Laura’s face is kind of telling. “Laura, you didn’t.”

“N-no...no! I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“You thought I was the one at the foot of the ladder,” Ell says. “You didn’t know I left to take a phone call. You didn’t realize Perry was the one you were going to hit with the paint--”

“Miss Schraeder, no offense, but you are _crazy._ Why would I want to do that?”

“Carmilla?”

“Um, to be fair cupcake, it’s not like you guys have been best friends since she started working here,” you mutter.

“You’re seriously taking her side?”

“Who’s taking _sides,_ kid?”

“You _just_ said--”

“ALRIGHT!”

You both stop and look at Ell. “...Laura, listen. I don’t know why you would do that. But, you have barely concealed your dislike for me since I started here. Carmilla is right. And I don’t know if it has to do with this little _thing_ you have for her, but for you to--”

“What do you mean _thing?”_

Ell’s mouth hangs open; she covers it with her hand. Laura looks at you.

“Miss Karnstein, what does she mean…?”

“Uh, no idea.”

But, of course, Laura isn’t buying it.

“Oh my God, you told her.”

“Laura--”

“You _outed_ me to your girlfriend?”

“She isn’t my girlfriend!”

“But, you _did_ tell her!”

You’re praying the power tools in the auditorium are enough to drown out this conversation. She turns to go, and you try and reach a hand out to stop her, but she jerks away violently. You turn to Ell, who still has her hands over her mouth.

“...Ell, remember when you said that you didn’t want to be the evil ex that ruins everything?”

“Carmilla, I--”

“Well, _that plan isn’t going that well.”_

You leave Ell alone in the hallway. You run after Laura and catch her in the lobby, grabbing her shoulder again and spinning her around to face you.

“What do you want?” Laura snaps.

“To _apologize,_ what do you think?”

“An apology isn’t good enough. That was _personal,_ Miss Karnstein. That was the most personal, scariest thing I’ve ever admitted to anyone. And you promised me no one else would know. Who else did you tell?”

“I didn’t tell anyone else. I swear. I understand. God, Laura, I understand. If you heard what my mother said about me when I came out...I’m just sorry, okay?”

Laura hugs herself tightly. “Why did you tell her? Were you guys laughing about it? ‘Ha ha, Ell, did you know this nerdy senior girl has a crush on me’?”

“Of course not. Laura, I know it was wrong, but...you know, it wasn’t me telling somebody, it was _Ell._ And Ell isn’t going to share it with anyone. Well, except for you, apparently…”

Laura looks down and nods to herself, and you think that she might actually get it, might actually understand, might forgive you--

“Right. Of course you would tell _her._ Bet that made her kind of jealous, didn’t it?”

This has gone on long enough.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Laura, _no_ \--you know what, maybe Ell was right. You are so jealous, and I’ve humored you because you’re cute most of the time when you’re not being fucking _crazy_ \--but you are my _student,_ Laura. I don’t know what you thought Ell was ruining for you. You can forgive me for telling her, or don’t, but I will not apologize for the crime of not hating my ex girlfriend in front of you, okay?”

Laura looks so hurt and angry that you feel sick. “Cupcake…”

“Go away, Miss Karnstein, alright? _We are done.”_

Laura walks through the doors. You’ve done all you can; you don’t follow.

Okay, this is a good thing. You and Laura were getting too close. At least you got distance before it was too late.

So why does this feel like a breakup?

* * *

 

You feel sick, so sick that you spend the rest of the set build sitting in the loft alone. There’s a couch back there, a set piece from a show done long before you were here, and since then has become a permanent fixture.

It might have been a bad place to rest, because all it does is remind you of how much use you and Ell got out of it during set builds. But you can’t _leave,_ because you’re the director. Luckily, Ell is giving you space.

At four o’clock Theo finally calls an end to it; you barely hear anything he says, but thank him anyway and power walk out. You don’t even try to resist the temptation tonight, and you grab a bottle of vodka from the liquor store, rip out the cork with an unholy strength, and drink until your tongue is numb and you can barely make it up the stairs to your apartment.

Then, you drink some more, and call the restaurant downstairs, because one advantage of living above a Chinese restaurant is that Chinese food is the best drunk food.

The doorbell rings, and you open it.

It’s not the Chinese food. Although whoever it is has a box in her hand.

“...Hey, Carmilla.”

Oh, right. Ell. That is Ell. You _are_ mad at Ell, aren’t you? You shift your feet back and forth as you look at her silently. She shoves the box in your hands.

“Loukoumades,” Ell says, “I know they’re your favorite.”

Right. So why are you mad at Ell again…? Something with Laura. _Laura._ You had a fight with her. You’re probably not friends anymore. The thought makes you frown and Ell must think it’s meant for her, because she starts speaking, fast and breathless and desperate.

“Carmilla, I cannot even _begin_  to explain how sorry I am for what I did. I don’t know what I was thinking, just blurting it out to Laura like that, and I swear I will do whatever I can to make this better. I mean, I have _no idea_ how to do that, but I’ll try. I thought about calling Laura, but then I thought ‘wow Ell, that would be a terrible idea, like seriously’ and then I thought about you, and how much you must hate me now, and I really thought before I screwed everything up that we could maybe be friends again, you know, so...so I went to, like, five different stores to find these loukamades as a peace offering--most of them just called these ‘honey dumplings’, but I know that always annoyed you--and now here I am.” Ell stops, catches her breath in a few quick pants, and smiles nervously, clasping her hands behind her back. “So, hi?”

You are hurt, you are angry, and so drunk you can’t remember exactly why or at who. All you know is that there’s some sort of dull ache in your chest, and a pounding in your head, and something you don’t want to think about. You want to do _anything_ but think.

So, you kiss Ell instead.


	17. Chapter 17

You wake up to the feeling of fingers lightly brushing against your hairline, a voice humming softly, and one of the worst headaches you’ve ever had.

 _“Fuck…”_ You crack open your bleary eyes and look up at Ell. The memories of last night come rushing back in bits and pieces. Holy shit. You kissed her. Laura hates you. You kissed her.

Ell, not Laura.

And your head hurts, your mouth is dry and cottony, and Ell is here, looking down at you and smiling.

“Well, good morning. How are you feeling?”

 _“Ugh_...like I’m being tied to the hood of a yellow rental truck, packed in with fertilizer and fuel oil, and pushed off a cliff by a suicidal Mickey Mouse.”

Ell laughs softly, and you flash a small smile in spite of yourself.

“Ell...what did we, uh…”

“Nothing. Well, not _nothing._ But, I mean...not what you’re thinking.”

“We kissed, though?”

“A little, yeah. But, then I realized how drunk you were. And _you_ realized how drunk you were, because you ran to the bathroom and started throwing up.”

You wince.

“But, I got you covered,” Ell reaches to the end table--you fell asleep with her on the couch, apparently--and hands you a bottle of Advil.

“Advil,” Ell says, “green tea, to help with your hangover,” she hands you the cup, which you take, sitting up with a groan, “and mouthwash, for the general grossness of the vomiting.”

“Thanks, Ell.” You pop in an Advil, taking it with your green tea, and finish off with a large swig of mouthwash, which you spit into a cup Ell provided. “You seriously stayed here all night?”

“This was kind of my fault, so it was the least I could do.”

You sip your green tea silently, letting the Advil and tea reduce your hangover from a sharp incessant throb to a dull pounding.

“...I can make you breakfast, too. Eggs are good for hangovers--I looked it up on my iPhone while you were asleep.”

You feel too shitty to tell her ‘it’s fine, really’ (not to mention that it definitely is not fine) so, instead, you give a nod of the head and Ell gets up.

“Do you have a poached egg maker?”

“Utensil drawer,” you croak, leaving Ell to figure it out, and she does. You hear eggs cracking, and then the microwave; the beeping when it turns off makes your head hurt again and you hunch over. All of this without even looking at Ell.

“...They’re done, if you want to eat in the kitchen.”

“Sure.”

You get up and sit at your table. Ell sits across from you. You poke your eggs with your fork, Ell watching you expectantly.

“Got something to say, Cinnabon?” you say, putting down your fork.

Ell bites her lip.

“Come on, Ell. That is your ‘we need to talk’ face. I fucked up. I get that. Get it over with.”

“Carmilla, this was _my_ fault.”

“If I hadn’t told you Laura was gay, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“But, you _did_ and I shouldn’t have told Laura I knew. Even accidentally.”

“It was an accident though, Ell. You know what wasn’t? Laura trying to dump paint on you. I want to be pissed at you, but, compared to Laura, you gave CPR to a puppy yesterday.”

_And I’m still too pissed at myself._

“And, Ell, listen, about last night--”

“No, Carmilla, I need to say this. Please. Before you go through this whole speech, can I tell _you_ some things? I’ve wanted...I’ve wanted to say them since, pretty much the day I came back.”

Oh boy. Here it is. The inevitable conflict. You lean back and cross your arms. “Fine. Go ahead, then.”

“First of all, I know that kiss probably didn’t mean anything, and I’m not expecting another.”

You nod, looking down at your eggs.

“But...you know, it’s just that I can’t help but wonder if you did that drunk, because you wanted to do it when you were sober.”

You shove a sliver of egg in your mouth. “Ell, I’m sorry for getting your hopes up last night, but after what you did--”

“I know, I _know,_ but all I’ve wanted to do since I came back was to talk to you. To tell you why that happened. I don’t know if it’ll make you hate me more or less or whatever, but...you know...I feel like it’s important.”

You sigh.

“Fine, Ell. If you want to so badly. But, it’s not changing anything.”

She bites her lip, grabbing a napkin to give her something to do with her hands. “Carmilla, the reason I fell in love with you was because you were so passionate. You made me want to do things I would’ve never had the courage to do. You were so brave, with your mother, and then, when we moved to New York, you were so sure of yourself, of _us,_ that it was impossible for me to doubt myself.”

“Great. Now tell me the part where I fucked up.”

“Carmilla, it was _me._ I started getting work, and you weren’t, and that hurt you. You became a totally different person. It was like I didn’t know you anymore. But, I should have talked to you about it. I didn’t, because you hate talking about feelings, but I still should have made the effort.”

You have to admit that wasn’t the answer you expected.  

“Yeah, well, you weren’t exactly the same ball of sunshine I knew in high school, either.”

A crease appears in Ell’s forehead.

“That is because,” Ell says, her voice calm and measured, “you slept all hours of the day and night, and when you were awake all you did was complain about stuff. Like how I couldn’t spend enough time with you--even though I was _working,_ you know, _auditioning,_ and you barely went to any anymore. And then, I had to practically be your agent and force you to go on an audition...and that day, when I found you on the couch, sleeping...I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was months and months of frustration that all just came spilling out. New York changed you, Carm. It changed _me.”_ Ell pauses, “That’s...that’s why I’m not going back.”

“What do you mean ‘not going back’?”

“They didn’t let me go back to Silas for a few months, Carmilla. I quit.”

Your mouth hangs open, shock striking you momentarily dumb. Ell is playing with her napkin, tearing at the corner and laying the pieces in a neat little pile.

“...Shit, Ell, why would you do that?”

“It wasn’t because of you,” Ell says quickly. “Well, sort of, but not specifically. I left because the hours sucked, and the pay wasn’t that good, and I always got hit on by the stage hands. It was not as glamorous as I had thought. And I was absolutely _miserable_ on top of it all. But, then...then I saw that Instagram post.”

Ell looks up from her napkin, which she’s shredded to pieces. You’re looking at her too, your expression unreadable.

“I saw that post, Kitten, and I just knew it was a _sign._ To go back. So I could start over. God, I know it’s ridiculous to have even thought this, but maybe for _us_ to start over. To find ourselves again.”  

And now Ell is crying, trying to dab her eyes with her napkin, realizing that it is shredded and using her sleeve.

“But, I ruined everything, _again.”_

You watch her. You think about everything she said.

You and Ell were pulled apart, then pulled back together again as surely as magnets. Kissing her again was as inevitable as the tides or passage of time.

And you have definitely changed. You realize that this, whatever it is that you’ve been going through, may have gotten worse after the breakup and return home, but it undoubtedly started in New York with Ell.

She hadn’t been good to you. But, you hadn’t been good to her, either.

However, this isn’t New York. This is Silas. Silas, where Ell was the only thing in your life that was easy. Silas, where there were no crushed dreams or bitterness, only nights singing at Lola’s and mornings tangled together in the loft, with no doubt about your future together…

You get up from the table. Walk towards Ell. She rises from her chair and steps back, pushing it out of the way.

“Carm…”

You look down at her neck. “I noticed you were wearing this,” you use a finger to lift the ring she wears around her neck gently, “at Lola’s. You never got rid of it.”

Ell looks down at your hand, then at you. She swallows. “I couldn’t get rid of it,” she says. “Never.”

“We can’t pick up where we left off, Ell.”

“I know.”

“I still don’t trust you. I might never trust you and this could blow up on us all over again.”

Ell takes a deep breath, pressing her palms together. “If you’re willing to take the risk, so am I.”

“Ell, if you’re willing to try this again, I don’t see the point in getting over you when my life has fucking sucked since I left.”

Ell frowns for just a fraction of a second before smiling, so brightly, and, for a moment, you think that maybe this can work. Maybe you can look at that smile one day and not wonder how she can love you so much _now_ when she threw you away before.

“Okay, I think it’s my turn now,” Ell says, leaning in to kiss you softly.

* * *

 

You’re both sitting on the couch, again.

“Come on, Cinnabon, turn around.”

“Okay…” She does, kneeling on the couch, and you lift her shirt up to reveal her back.

“Carmilla, what are you doing?” Ell asks, laughing nervously.

“You know what I’m doing,” you lift the shirt higher, revealing the tattoo of a sunflower Ell had gotten across her shoulder blades. One hand keeps her shirt up while you run your fingers lightly across the ink with the other.

“I missed this,” you whisper, “it used to be the first thing I saw when I woke up.” You lay a kiss to it softly, smiling against Ell’s back when you hear her slight intake of breath.

“Kitten, not that I don’t love this, but I think we need to figure out what we’re going to do.”

“I thought we agreed on a ‘see where this goes’ policy, Ell.”

 _“No,_ about Laura.”

“Oh.” Ell catches on to your body language immediately--shoulders squaring, pulling away, gripping the edges of the couch. She wraps an arm around your waist.

“Kitten, I know it’s not fun to think about, but we are going to have to do something about her, right?”

“I don’t know. Yeah, I guess. We can talk to her tomorrow. Or, you know, I can during school. You can talk to her at rehearsal. Fuck, I don’t even want to think about this right now, though.”

Ell lays her cheek on top of your head. “...You’ve really been miserable here, huh?”

You scoff. “Does that surprise you?”

“It couldn’t have been all bad. You took that picture with Laura at Christmas...well, you weren’t smiling, but you almost never smile anyway.”

That was true. There was Laura throwing you the Christmas party. You and Laura having lunch together in the auditorium. Having lunch with her at Chick-Fil-A and Laura letting you keep her mother’s hat. Laura babbling about something at rehearsals and hitting someone in the face as she gestured excitedly…

Laura, Laura, Laura, and with Ell next to you rubbing circles on the back of your hand with her thumb, you feel like sharing any of those memories is a very bad idea.

“...Well, today wasn’t terrible.”

Ell kisses your temple, and you try and figure out a way to win your favorite student back.  

* * *

 

“So, yeah, King Arthur is basically Jesus. There you go. Study _Morte d’Arthu_ r and I’ll give you a pop quiz tomorrow. Or, you know, just a quiz since I told you about it...can the bell ring already?”

You’ve been distracted today, for obvious reasons. The bell rings and you see Laura trying to get out of the room as fast as possible.

“Hollis, stay.”

Laura rolls her eyes so hard that you’re surprised they don’t roll back in her head. Danny and Perry leave without her.

“Yes, Miss Karnstein? Are you sure we should be in here alone? Maybe we should keep the door open. We wouldn’t want to _suggest_ anything.”

“Laura, you better sit down before I decide not to do this.”

Laura glares at you, but sits down in front of your desk.

“Cupcake, for some reason, you made me direct this show. And that is the only thing about my life that hasn’t sucked for the past few months.”

Laura looks down at her desk and doesn’t say anything.

“You are a good kid. Who tried to do something crazy. But, everyone is entitled to one huge mistake in their life, right? So...let telling Ell be mine, and that little paint incident can be yours.”

She still doesn’t say anything. She’s looking at you now and appearing not exactly angry. Just sad.

“Hey, if you don’t feel like talking, that’s fine. I brought these,” you open the drawer of your desk and pull out the box of loukoumades Ell had given you. “What do you say? You’ll love them. They’re basically dough smothered in honey. Even if you hate me, stay and try one.”

Laura’s tongue darts out of her mouth and you smile.

“...I do like honey…” You toss the box to her. She opens it and takes one out, rolling it in her fingers--which get covered in honey--and pops it in her mouth.

“Oh my God, these are amazing.”

“Glad you like them, cutie. Little balls of heaven, right?”

“Where’d you get them?”

Your stomach drops. Moment of truth time.

“...Ell bought them, actually.”

Laura pauses mid chew. “Oh. That was nice of her.”

“Yeah. Alright, Laura, you’re not going to like this--”

“You’re back together, aren’t you?”

You pause. “...Sort of. What gave it away?”

“What else could it possibly be? Although, I don’t get why you’d need to tell me. It’s none of my business.”

“More so you can mentally prepare yourself. So, you forgive me, then…?”

“No,” Laura grabs another loukoumade from the box. “But, most of that anger was me directing my guilt at you, I guess. Poor Perry...and, you know, I guess if you forgive Ell for what she did, I should too. You know what’s best for you, right?”

“That is surprisingly mature of you.”

“I’ve been practicing in the mirror all night because I was sure you’d ask,” Laura says. “You know, so I wouldn’t seem so ‘fucking crazy.’”

The edge of bitterness, and the fact that Laura would curse at all, reminds you of the seriousness of what you did. And that you and Laura are not going to repair your friendship so easily.

“...Well, you better get to lunch. I’ll see you at rehearsal.”

“Sure, I’ll see you.”

Laura tucks the box of loukoumades under her arm and walks out. You don’t know if she did it on purpose or forgot, but, either way, you decide it’s better not to stop her.


	18. Chapter 18

Laura has been exceedingly professional since your conversation. She also has stopped glaring daggers at Ell. She hasn’t _blatantly_ ignored you at rehearsals. By all accounts, you should be feeling pretty good.

So you don’t understand why it bothers you so much. Okay, maybe you _do._ You miss the conversations you both had in between scenes. You miss her crazy enthusiasm. You miss _her._

Even though you have no right to, because you have Ell petting your hair on the couch every night, whispering softly against your mouth before kissing you with those familiar lips that taste like watermelon chapstick.

“I can’t stay overnight, Kitten. How would I explain that to Mom and Dad?”

“Oh, _come on,_ Ell, I thought this ended in high school.”

Ell smiles. “Just until I get my own place, Carm.”

“Fine.” You kiss her, and she holds you close for a moment before pulling back and asking, “Carmilla, I almost forgot...are we renting the costumes for Grease?”

“Renting? Of course not. Where do you think we’d have the money for that?”

“...I _assumed_ the fundraiser?”

It hits you. “Oh, _shit._ Ell, we used all the money from that to pay for the materials we used at the setbuild.”

Great. You now have a kickass set, but no costumes.

“I cannot believe we didn’t think of that.”

“You don’t need to tell me!”

“Listen…” Ell twists some hair between her fingers, “you know I wouldn’t suggest this if the situation wasn’t kind of desperate, but we could always--”

“No,” you answer.

“Carmilla, she’s done fashion shows in _Milan,_ she’d definitely be able to help.”

“I am not calling my sister. She doesn’t talk to Mother--I haven’t even told her about the breakup. As far as she knows, we’re still living in New York.”

“Are you serious?”

“Wasn’t exactly looking forward to getting an earful from _her_ , too. Besides, she’s in Morocco now, or something. She’s not going to pack up for some high school production.”

Ell shakes her head. “We’ll...we’ll figure it out, Carm. We’ve done okay so far.”

“Yeah. We’re pretty close to opening though…”

“We’ll figure it out tomorrow,” Ell repeats firmly. She kisses you again, softly. “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Cinnabon.”

“Night, Kitten.”

Ell walks out and you watch her, leaning against the doorframe.

* * *

 

You go into rehearsal the next day and are surprised when Laura actually walks up to you.

“Miss Karnstein?”

“Laura? Wow. You’re actually initiating conversation today.”

There’s something about Laura’s face. A hint of nervousness, but mostly serious.

“...What’s got you so smug, cupcake?”

“You’ll see in a second. Alright, guys,” she turns her back toward you and raises her hands. Wow, does this seem familiar.

“Laura, what are you--”

Laura lowers her hands to her mouth and whistles.

The doors to the auditorium open. All the cast members are carrying boxes.

“That’s right, guys! Set them right down there, alright? Go ahead! Keep them coming!”

You walk up to one Danny places near you, peering inside. It’s clothes. Clothes and fabric. As in…

“Laura, you got us costume materials?”

“Yep!” Laura claps her hands together excitedly, “I noticed you guys haven’t thought about it yet...and, you know, I’ve learned that if you haven’t mentioned it, it’s safe to assume you have no idea how to do it.”

Can’t argue there.

“So, I talked to LaF, Perry, and Danny, and then they talked to everyone else, and we got these. I went to like, every thrift shop in town looking for stuff that looked like it could be from the fifties. And a few Party City stores. It’s been kind of my secret project for the past few weeks.”

You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. This is the Laura you missed. “Man, cupcake, it’s great to see your good side again.”

Laura frowns. “I’m still mad at you for what you did. But...you know, what I did was wrong too. I had to make it right. So, this is kind of a truce until I’m done doing that.” And Laura smiles shyly. “So...did I? Make it right?”

“I can’t speak for Ell, but, buttercup, I already forgave you. It’s kind of impossible to stay mad at you.”

Laura grins. “But, hey, this isn’t all! I talked to the Home Ec teacher. She can sew, and she said she’d help!”

A seamstress. Costumes. “Laura, you are a godsend. A literal godsend.”

She quickly becomes serious again, “There’s still one more thing I have to do though. Where is Miss Schraeder?”

As if on cue, Ell walks out of the costume room, tying her hair into a ponytail. “Carm, I looked at everything we had, but it doesn’t--what are all of these?”

“Costume materials, thanks to Wonder Laura over here.”

“Miss Schraeder,” Laura walks up to Ell swiftly, reaching into a large bag hanging from her shoulder. She takes something thin, small, and rectangular.

“A peace offering,” Laura says evenly. “Sorry I haven’t been so nice.”

Ell looks confused for a moment as she takes it in her hands. “Oh! It’s a playbill. And it’s for _Rent._ Laura, that’s lovely.”

“Look a little closer.”

Ell does. There’s a moment when her expression changes from being pleasantly surprised to absolutely awed.

“Carmilla, _look at this.”_

You peer over Ell’s shoulder. You don’t even care that the cast is watching.

“Anthony Rapp, Idina Menzel, Fredi Walker...no.”

“My mom went to see the original cast on Broadway. Everyone is on there. Isn’t it cool?”

It is more than cool. It is absolutely amazing. This playbill has to be worth hundreds, maybe even thousands of dollars. Or at least it _should_ be.

“Cupcake, this has to be your most prized possession. I can’t--”

“Miss Karnstein, don’t you dare. I have been dying of guilt. Let Miss Schraeder have the playbill and make me feel better. Besides, Mom had a whole collection of playbills. She wouldn’t mind. Not for something like this.”

Ell is biting her lip, looking at the playbill in her hands. She looks at Laura.

“So, to be clear, you won’t let me give it back?”

“Nope.”

“Laura, I am so sorry. What I did was inexcusable and invasive--”

“At least you did it by accident. I tried to dump a bucket of paint on your head.”

Ell and Laura share a quick laugh before looking away from each other.

“Anyway,” Laura says, “I need to girl the Hell up and not be such a jerk, I guess. Truce?”

Ell grins, shaking Laura’s hand. “Truce.”

“Good...I have to go find our Home Ec teacher now, see you guys!”

“A _Rent_ playbill signed by the original cast…” Ell holds it to her chest, looking at

you as she puts it carefully in her purse. “I think I can understand why you like her so much, now. She’s kind of unbelievable.”

You watch Laura’s retreating back and smile. “Yeah. She is.”  

* * *

 

The moment she steps through the auditorium door, a hand flies to Ell’s mouth.

_“Mel?”_

Oh, _fuck._

Mel was not a huge fan of you.

Well, _none_ of Ell’s friends really liked you, but Mel was especially mean about it.

“Oh my God, Ellie!” Mel rushed forward and gave her a hug. Over Ell’s shoulder she sees you, and you give an awkward little wave.

“Kitten, why didn’t you tell me Mel works here?”

“Uh...funny thing, Mel never went out of her way to say ‘hi.’”

“Neither did you, short, dark, and misanthropic.”

“Can we reminisce about old times when we’re not surrounded by students?”

Mel lets go of Ell and looks at all the cast members. “Okay, ladies and gents, raise your hand if you know how to sew.”

Perry, of _course,_ raises her hand, as do a few other girls.

What surprises you is when Kirsch does.

“Kirsch, you can _sew?_ ” Danny asks.

“What? Yeah, I patch up the guys’ football uniforms all the time.”

“He’s surprisingly good at it,” Will adds.

Danny nods to herself, “Huh.”

“Alright, you’re my A-Team,” Mel says. “Come on,” she snaps her fingers and motions for them to follow her. “You coming, Director?”

You roll your eyes, “Sure.”

“Good. Now, I need the rest of the cast members here, because if we’re going to get this done before tech week, we’ve got to get these clothes fitted. Come on, let’s move!”

You feel a hand snake around your waist.

“Be nice, Kitten, please?”

“Ell, you know we never got along,” you answer with gritted teeth.

“I _know_ , but she was my best friend in high school. And we kind of need her help.” She lays a quick kiss to your temple. It’s hesitant, like she isn’t quite sure if this is okay to do in public yet. You relax a little.

“The things you make me do, Cinnabon.” You sigh, and take Ell’s hand, “Come on, we’ve got to make sure the stuff they picked out doesn’t look ridiculous.”

“Okay, we have to sew these patches on _all_ these leather jackets,” Mel instructs. “Sewers, get to work. Everyone else, let’s see what we can have you wear.”

You’re still staring at Kirsch in awe; the only person working faster than him was Perry. Danny was still staring at Kirsch like he had three heads.

“Uh, Xena, you might want to look away. People might get the wrong idea.”

“...He dances, and he can sew.”

“Yeah?”

“I thought he was just a dumb, misogynistic jock. And he still is, but...you know, this doesn’t exactly fit the stereotype.”

“Wow. It’s almost like people can’t be reduced to stereotypes. Who knew.”

You walk away, leaving Danny to probably hate you, while you observe the kids all trying on the costumes. There’s a big row of mats the cheerleaders use against the back wall of the auditorium, and if they’re standing vertically and unfurled slightly, they work as makeshift ‘dressing rooms’. You see Laura slip behind one and a few minutes later comes out wearing a blue dress with white polka dots.

“Hey, guys, what do you think?”

“Oh, Laura, it looks so nice on you!” Perry gushes, looking up from her sewing.

Laura walks down to show Mel.

“Well, Cupcake, you do look sufficiently dorky.”

Laura looks at you for a fraction of a second, sticking her tongue out at you before turning her attention back to Mel.

“It looks good, but I imagined Sandy wearing a blouse with a poodle skirt. Hang on.”

Mel goes to look in one of the boxes, and Laura hums to herself, rocking back and forth on the heels of her converse sneakers.

“Miss Karnstein?”

“Yeah?”

“How would you want my hair done?”

You and Ell whisper quietly to yourselves for a few moments.

“Well,” you walk forward, taking Laura’s hair in your hands, “would you mind getting bangs, kid? Because I really wanted to go for the Olivia Newton-John look.”

Your thumb just barely brushes the nape of Laura’s neck as you pull it into a ponytail, holding it together with your hand. “A ponytail, right, Ell? And then we just sort of,” you let go, bunching it up in both hands, “poof the Hell out of it for the end of the show. Easy.”

Ell bites her thumb. “That would definitely work. Would you be willing to get the bangs, Laura?”

“Y-yes. I have to go, I think I see Mrs. Callis coming back with the clothes she wants me to try on.”

She walks away and you realize the back of her neck had turned pretty red. As red as you’re sure her face is.

You can’t help the little, satisfied smirk.


	19. Chapter 19

“Okay, guys, we’re getting pretty close to tech week. We’ve got to get pictures out of the way. We have the studio coming in, and my only instructions for you are: please, _please_ don’t be idiots today. Yes, I am looking at _you,_ Zetas.”

Ell nudges you playfully. “Carmilla, they won’t risk not getting to take a picture in those jackets. Right, guys?”

The guys all nod.

“Good. So, we have the list of group pictures taped to the wall of the tech booth. They’re in order, so make sure you have your costume on when it’s time for you to get your picture taken. While you’re waiting, you can go get your individual shots. Carmilla, who’s going first?”

“Pink Ladies and Sandy.”

“You heard her, guys. Go get ready.”

Everyone goes to the back, where Mel is helping with their costumes.

You sit down in one of the seats. _“...Wow.”_

Ell sits down next to you. “What is it, Kitten?”

“I can’t believe we’ve actually done it. We have pictures, and then next week is tech week. And after that…” You pause.

“You don’t know what to do after that, do you?”

“This show has been my life since September, Ell. I focus on paying back my loans, I guess. What are you going to do?”

“I was thinking of opening up my own studio. I think a lot of the kids here would be interested.”

You smile. “That’s great, Ell.”

Ell shifts in her seat so she can face you, taking your hand and entwining your fingers. “I could use some help.”

You stare at her for a moment, confused. “Wait, Cinnabon, you mean _me?”_

Ell laughs. “Yes, you. We could do acting classes. Even singing classes...you know, if you’d want to.”

She bites her lower lip, nervous, and you know exactly why. This relationship is still new and fragile. And now she is talking about owning a business together.

You imagine you and Ell opening a studio. Going to work every morning, and coming home every night to your nice little house with a white picket fence. It’s exceedingly domestic, it’s permanent, and it’s _Silas._ It isn’t how you pictured your life at all.

But, as you look at Ell’s smiling face, you can’t help but think _why does that have to be a bad thing?_

“...Kitten? What do you think?”

You snap back to reality. “Well, I don’t hate the idea, Cinnamon Roll.”

Ell kisses the back of your hand, relieved, before Laura and Pink Ladies file onto the stage for their pictures.

“Well, you all look great!” Ell gushes. “Carmilla, what do you think?”

You look at them all. “Perry, the perm works surprisingly well. LaF, thanks again for growing your hair out. Danny, you look slutty--”

_“Carmilla.”_

“--That’s the point of Rizzo’s costume, Ell, I’m giving her a compliment.”

Danny purses her bright red lips, looking at the others. They all just shrug at her.

“And last, but not least, Laura. Good. Definitely good.”

She took your advice and got the bangs, her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Laura smooths out the wrinkles in her white pencil skirt, unbuttoning her pink shrug until only the top was buttoned, revealing her blouse.

“Thanks. Uh, Miss Karnstein?”

“Yeah?”

“It says I’m supposed to take a picture with Will in my ‘You’re the One That I Want’ outfit.”

“Yes?”

“I never got that outfit.”

“Don’t worry about it. I got it for you.”

Laura raises an eyebrow at you, but has to turn and pose for the picture.

“Carmilla,” Ell says, “you got Laura an outfit?”

“I brought her some of my clothes.”

“Oh my God, you didn’t bring the _vinyl pants,_ did you?”

“...Go big or go home in that scene, Ell. Besides, maybe the really sexy clothes will help her get in character.”

It _is_ true that Laura needs work. She’s still awkward as Hell trying to act sexy. Ell rolls her eyes but rubs circles on your back, to make it clear that she’s not really annoyed.

They take the pictures. As Laura walks past, you reach under the seat and pull out a plastic bag.

“We’re about the same clothing size,” you say, handing her the bag.“Put this on.”

Laura looks in the bag; her eyes widen. “Miss Karnstein, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Alright. You want to tell that to the representative from Juilliard?”

Laura wrinkles her nose at you, but goes to put on her costume.

“Okay, next up. Get up there, Burger Palace Boys.” You clap your hands. You’re paying this photographer, and you’ll have to give her more money if it takes too long, so...you’re a little impatient.

They all jump onstage. You’re once again reminded of the painful fact that they all happened to be Zetas--or maybe that was Betty’s idea, to make the dynamic better or something. Either way, they’re all chest bumping each other and flexing.

“Calm it down, beefcakes,” you shout.

They calm down. Luckily, that’s the only photo with all the men in it at once.

“...Okay, Will, you stay here. We have to take the photo with Laura in her end-of-show outfit.” Ell looks behind her and calls out, “Laura, honey, you ready?”

“...Yes…”

She walks down the aisles to the stage--well, more like shuffles--and Will’s mouth drops.

“Holy _shit,_ Laura,” Will breaths.

 _“Will,”_ Ell warns.

You lean back in your seat. She’s wearing your vinyl pants, red high heels, and a tight black shirt tucked into her pants with a belt. And, of course, one of your leather jackets.

“How do you feel?” you ask. You can’t help but smirk. Laura runs a hand through her teased-as-Hell hair, sticky from hairspray.

Laura walks onto the stage; she tries to get a feel for posing with Will (who looks like he has just won the lottery). “Stupid.”

You roll your eyes. You’re not going to have Laura look like an idiot for pictures. “That’s because you’re not doing it right. Here,” you hop onto the stage and stand next to her. “Okay, I want you to pop your knee like this.” You demonstrate. Laura follows. “Good. Now, grab your jacket with one hand.”

“...Like this?”

“Yeah. There you go. Now, Will, come over here and sort of put a hand on Laura’s shoulder.”

“Will do, Miss K.”

“And hand _only on her shoulder,”_ you warn, making an ‘I’m watching you’ motion. In the audience, you see Ell giggle into her hand while all the other kids ooooh.

Will smiles sheepishly. “Of course, Miss K.”

“Laura, last thing. Look down,”

“Okay…”

“Now, I want you to imagine...chocolate cake. Like, a seven layer chocolate cake. Got it? Now, look up.”

Laura does. You slap your hands together and then step back, spreading your arms out.

“And that, my friends, is how Sandy Dumbrowski should look.. Man, I am good!”

You hop down from the stage and sit back down. Ell gives you a quick kiss.

“I have to admit, Kitten, that was pretty impressive.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m an expert now.”

“Time for full cast photos!” the photographer announces.

“Ell, come on.”

“You want me to be in the picture?”

“You’re my _girlfriend,_ Cinnamon Roll, of course I’m going to include you. Plus, choreographer, so. Show wouldn’t even be opening without you.”

Ell smiles, takes your hand, and follows you up onto the stage. “Guys, shorter cast members need to get onto the risers--except for you, Laura, you’ll be right at the front with the Pink Ladies and the Burger Palace Boys...Carmilla, do you think it looks alright?”

“Looks fine. Directors in the front, right?”

And you end up standing next to Laura. Of course. Laura catches you looking at her out of the corner of your eye; she gives you a tight-lipped smile before going back to looking at the camera.

Okay, maybe it’s because you guys aren’t on the best of terms right now, but she’s seemed kind of off today…

“Alright, everyone, say ‘cheese’!”

“No, say ‘Grease is the Word’!” Kirsch shouts, and on the count of three the entire cast exclaims:

“GREASE IS THE WORD!”

As soon as the flash goes off, the cast bursts into laughter.

“Everyone, give a big hand for the photographer!” Ell says. The cast applauds.

“Alright, cast meeting. Everyone, sit.”

They all sit. You start pacing in front of them.

“Guys...I don’t know what else to say, except I’m proud of all of you. This show has gotten really good. Better than I expected. That being said, next week is tech week.”

Most of the cast groans.

 _“Yes._ Those of you who are new to theater--well, tech week is also known as Hell week. It will be the most mentally grueling week of, probably, this entire year for you. You are here right after school, you get into makeup and costume, and we run. Not until eight, not until nine, but until we run through the entire show. No stops, no line prompting, nothing. So: bring your homework for when you have the time. Go into the hallway when it’s not your scene. And, _for the love of God_ , bring water.” You turn to your girlfriend, “Anything to add, Ell?”

“Uh, no. I think you covered all the important points,” Ell answers.

“Good. Now, we need to get everything cleaned up, but other than that...see you all Sunday!”

As everyone goes to change and leave, Ell catches up to you. She links your arms.

“I am so proud of you, Carm.” She gives you a kiss on the cheek. You smile.

“Thanks, babe.”

“I think we should go out to celebrate. To Lola’s, what do you say? There’s an open mike tonight. It’ll be like old times.”

You laugh. “Ell, I’m not sure if I want everything to be like old times…”

“Such as…?”

“For one thing, I don’t want anyone to know that I used to sing Alanis Morissette songs for you at open mike night.”

Ell pouts. “I thought it was sweet.”

“I’ll tell you what. I will bring my guitar and sing you something. Alright, Cinnabon?”

“Deal. It’s a date then?”

“I guess so. Our first official date since the whole ‘do over’ thing, huh?”

“Yeah. It is.”

You nuzzle her cheek and tell her you’ll see her later.

* * *

 

It’s been awhile since you broke out the old acoustic guitar. The guitar is another gift from Ell, an anniversary present she’d bought with a year of her savings. You couldn’t stand to look at it after the breakup, but you also couldn’t bear to get rid of it. It was a perfectly good guitar, after all, and you were hoping that time would allow you to use it again.

And it _has,_ just not in the way you had expected.

You walk into Lola’s; you’d gotten a text from Ell saying she’d be a little late. So, you go up to the counter and order both of your drinks.

As you turn your back and lean against the counter, you see Laura.

She’s slouched in her seat, eating, what looks to be from this distance, a lemon bar. Well, not really eating. She has her cheek resting on her hand and she’s poking the bar with a fork.

Laura is not the type to shirk on eating sweets.

You turn back to the counter. “Hey, can I have a hot chocolate, too?”

The worker makes the three drinks. You drop yours and Ell’s on the closest available table and walk over to Laura.

“Hey, Cupcake.”

Laura looks up, obviously startled, before frowning. “Oh. Miss Karnstein.”

“Wow, you sound excited.”

“What do you want?”

 _“Well_ , first of all...you forgot your hot chocolate.”

“I didn’t order one?”

“Exactly.” You sit down. “You’ve seemed down today, kid. What’s eating you? I thought you’d be into picture day.”

Laura doesn’t answer.

“Listen, Laura, if seeing me with Ell is bothering you--”

“Not everything that makes me upset has to do with _you,”_ Laura snaps.

You lean back. Laura’s gaze softens just slightly. She looks down and mumbles a ‘sorry’.

“...Excuse me for trying to be a good friend,” you answer. “I can’t know that if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.” You push the hot chocolate toward her. “So.”

There it is. The slightest smile. Laura raises an eyebrow. “...Miss Karnstein, do you really think I’ll tell you my tragic backstory because you bought me a hot chocolate?”

“Well, I’ve found it works surprisingly well with coffee, so I thought I’d give it a shot.”

Laura eyes you suspiciously, then sighs and takes a sip.

“...Mom’s birthday.”

“Oh.”

“Danny and the others are hanging out, but I like being alone today, y’know?”

“Look, Laura, I’m not great with feelings but...I’m just sorry, okay?”

“Don’t be. Like you said--stuff happens, I guess...is that a guitar case?”

“This?” You lift it. “Yeah. Open mike. Ell is meeting me here, actually.”

Laura lifts her chin slightly. “Yeah, I see her at the counter.”

You look behind you. Ell is looking around her; when she sees you, she smiles warmly, walking over and giving you a quick kiss.

“Hey, Carm. Hello, Laura!”

“Miss Schraeder, hi,” Laura answers, forcing a tightlipped smile as she looks back down at her food.

“Ell, hey. I got us a table over there. We were just...you know, talking about tech week.”

“Of course. Aren’t you up soon?”

“Yeah. I’ll meet you there in, like, thirty seconds. I just got to finish up with Laura here, okay?”

“Sure…” As soon as Ell leaves for her table you smile at Laura.

“See? I don’t need to tell Ell _everything._ I can learn.”

“I wish you learned faster,” Laura answers.

You frown, and Laura sighs.

“...But, I guess it’s better than nothing. You should probably go meet Miss Schraeder. And get ready to go on.”

“Right,” you get up; you turn your back to her and start walking to your table, but something makes you turn back and say:

“Hey, tonight, this song is dedicated to you, okay?”

You’re at the table with Ell, and then at the microphone singing, before Laura can react.

But, you see her in the crowd. She’s smiling.


	20. Chapter 20

“...I was about to call you, Carmilla, but I wasn’t sure if we were on ‘me calling you’ terms yet.”

“Betty, don’t be ridiculous. I am one hundred percent over that little bitch fest I threw. You’re back in my good graces.”

“Well, I should count myself as one of the lucky ones. So, what kept you from Skyping?”

“Things the past few weeks have been...well, pretty busy. We had a setbuild, and then rehearsals, and then, of course, pictures were yesterday, and starting tomorrow--”

 _“Ah._ Hell week starts. Say no more. How has Ell been working out?”

“Uh--well--Ell is…”

“Someone call me?” Ell walks out of your bedroom. “Oh! Betty!”

“Carmilla...why is Ell here so early in the--”

Ell wraps her arms around your neck, her chin resting on top of your head. You flash Betty a lopsided grin. “Before you say anything: yes, this is exactly what you’re thinking.”

Betty looks at the two of you, biting her knuckles before asking, “Can you mute the computer for like, ten seconds?”

“...Sure?”

Somewhere, in San Francisco, a couple living underneath Betty’s apartment was probably being woken up by her fist pumping, stomping, and (from what you can guess by lipreading) shouting ‘YES! I KNEW IT! _I KNEW IT!’_

You unmute the sound.

“--I AM THE WORLD’S GREATEST MATCHMAKER--oh, sorry,” Betty smiles sheepishly. “Can you blame me for being excited, though?”

“Of course not,” Ell says, laughing. “But, what is with you calling yourself the ‘matchmaker’?”

“Do you think it was a coincidence that I cast you two as Maureen and Joanne?”

“...Yes, yes, Betty, you know us better than we know ourselves,” you answer. “But, more importantly, we Skyped you because we wanted to ask you to come down. You know, to see it.”

“It would mean so much to the kids,” Ell adds, “and to us.”

Betty leans back in her chair. “Man, you just had to ask me that, didn’t you? Now it can’t be a surprise.” Betty spreads her arms wide, “My husband and I already bought our plane tickets. Mama Spielsdorf is coming back home!”

“That’s _fantastic,_ Betty, we can’t wait to see you!” Ell exclaims.

“Don’t tell the kids, though, alright? I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“No problem,” you answer, “Ell and I have got to go.”

Betty says goodbye and you sign off. “...So. We have one free day left before the worst week of our lives. What do you want to do?”

Ell unwraps her arms from your neck and walks to the kitchen. “Oh, Kitten, it won’t be _that_ bad.”

“Oh, please, Ell. Remember in high school? All of our worst fights happened during tech weeks. The joke with the cast was that you never swore because you were saving it for tech week.”

“Well, maybe it’s better when you’re not in the show,” Ell answers, grabbing a banana from the kitchen counter and peeling it.

“Hardly. It was _also_ a tradition that Betty cried at least once during the week.”

“Well,” Ell walks back to you, bending down and giving you a kiss, passing you the banana, “I will be here to try and keep you sane. Starting with making sure you eat.”

“Seriously, Ell, I missed this,” you breathe, and Ell smiles.

“I did, too,” she answers. She sits sideways on your lap; automatically your arms go to circle around the taller woman’s waist, your chin bending down to rest on her shoulder.

“I missed Silas.”

You huff.

 _“Really?”_ Ell says with a slight laugh.

“What did you expect me to miss? The homophobia? The boredom? The one-stop light?”

“Not everyone likes living in the city, Carm. I, for one, hated it.”

You kiss her shoulder. “Didn’t stop you from moving there with me.”

“You made it bearable,” she answers, shrugging. You frown against her shoulder.

“Ell...did you really _only_ want to be in New York because of me?”

She puts a finger to her lips as she considers the question. “Well, I didn’t think that at the time...but considering how fast it went downhill without you? Probably.”

`You bite your lip. Well, you wouldn’t have even considered staying in Silas if Ell hadn’t talked to you about opening a studio…

Come to think of it, thinking about staying in Silas forever still doesn’t sit well with you.

Whatever. You’ll warm up to the idea. Right?

Ell can sense your sudden uneasiness, because she gets up and says cheerily, “I have an idea. Why don’t we go out for breakfast? My parents think I’m out apartment hunting. You’ve got me all to yourself for the rest of the day.”

“Well, I have papers to grade...but, Hell, I guess everyone is getting an ‘A’ this weekend.”

Ell rolls her eyes good naturedly and leaves to get dressed. You rub your palms together, smiling like (if you had to guess) a goofball. Wow.

Then, the doorbell rings.

“What…?” You go to the door, look through the peephole, and almost have a heart attack. " _Mattie?”_

“I can hear you through the door, darling, and I’d appreciate you letting me in.”

_Fuck._

“...Fine,” you open the door. Mattie walks in, all high heels and poise, as usual. She looks around your shabby apartment with a look of disdain.

“Mattie, before you say anything--”

She holds up a hand. “Kitty-cat, I am _very_ angry at you, and you have a _lot_ of explaining to do...but since it’s been quite awhile…” She opens her arms, and you run into them.

“Sis, when did you get back into town? I thought you were taking a trip to--”

“Morocco? Why, _yes_ , I was. But then I thought, why not take a surprise visit to New York to see my little sister, since she’s been acting rather suspicious in our Skype calls the past few months.”

You gulp and step back. “Listen, about that--”

 _“And,_ imagine my surprise when I got to what I _think_ is your address, only to find it occupied by an entirely different couple. Being forced to call _Mother_ of all people--and you know how I _loathe_ Mother--to find out that you’ve been lying to me for the past _four months.”_

“Mattie, I’m sorry. I _wanted_ to tell you eventually, but I wasn’t exactly proud of,” you make a sweeping gesture, “all of _this.”_

“Well, I don’t blame you, Millie,” Mattie saunters into your living room, sitting on the couch, hands folded tightly in her lap. “These aren’t the best of accommodations. Why didn’t you just swallow your pride and call me? I would have been happy to help you find somewhere to live. Hell, I could write you a check right now to pay off all those silly student loans.”

_Yeah, and then never let me hear the end of it._

You love Mattie, you really do, but, let’s face it, she definitely acted more like Mother than you, even if she was the adopted one. Taking a huge sum of money from her? Not going to happen. She’d be calling in ‘favors’ the rest of your life.

“...Kind of wanted to take a stab at the whole ‘adulting’ thing. I’m doing fine on my own.” You sit down next to her. Mattie ruffles your hair affectionately.

“Aah, Millie. Always such an independent little bug, weren’t you? It must be killing you, being under Maman’s thumb like this.”  

“I deal.”

“Oh, I understand. I was in the same position as you, once. She wasn’t exactly supportive of ‘fashion design’ either. But, in the end, I showed her. I make more money than she could even _dream_ of.”

“Any particular reason you’re at my apartment?”

“I find out you’ve been lying about your lifestyle for months, and I can’t even give you a visit?”

You sigh. “Fine. Right. It is really nice to see you, sis, but I’m about to start tech week for a show and I kind of wanted to spend the day mentally preparing myself, you know?”

“Well, we’ll paint the town red then!” She grabs your hands. You frown and withdraw them.   
“Being hungover at a rehearsal isn’t a good idea.”

“Such a shame. And here I thought breaking up with that little blonde piece of milquetoast would make you _fun_ again.”

Your eyes widen. “Uh, yeah, about that--”

“You know, while I’m not happy about most of what Mother told me, I _was_ relieved to hear you finally ended it with her.” Mattie continues, “Now, she was nice--don’t get me wrong--but, so _bland._ I never understood what you saw in her. Attractive, I suppose. Such a goody-goody, though. No matter, the important thing is that she’s--”

“Carmilla, I spilled toothpaste on my shirt, can I borrow--”

Ell freezes. She’s standing still. Wearing skinny jeans and a pink lace bra.

“Mattie!” Ell squeaks, “Carm didn’t--I mean--how are you?”

Mattie stares at her in shock.

“Mattie, _please_ don’t tell Maman, I wouldn’t be able to step foot in the school if she found out.”

A wicked smile spreads across your big sister’s face as she looks at Ell.  “Oh, you little _monster._ Why would I tell her? This is so deliciously _deceptive.”_

She grabs your hands. “You’ll need to tell me _all_ the details, of course.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Carmilla receives an emotional punch in the gut.

Ell is, understandably, not very happy with the turn of events--least of all with the fact that Mattie insists on spending the day with you both.

“Do we _really_ have to let her sit in on rehearsals?”

“Honestly, Ell? If she told me to cut off my hand, I would have to do it. My sister’s got blackmail down to a science.”

“I do not know why you put up with her.”

“She’s not _that_ bad. We’ve had this discussion before.”

“I know, ‘she’s just...Mattie’. She’s your only family that cares about you and everything. But, does she have to be so…”

“Right?” you offer.

“Yes! Exactly!” Ell exclaims.

“You know, I remember you suggesting I call Mattie a few days ago...”

“That was before we were able to do costumes on our own.”

“Babe, just deal with her for the next couple of weeks, alright?” You kiss her temple, pulling her closer to you. “Then, she’ll be off on a jet to another fashion show or something. And I’ll make this up to you. I _promise._ ”

She pouts for a little longer before relaxing. “...Alright. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Okay, I am here!” Mattie says, entering the auditorium and sitting down next to you, “Where are all the cast members?”

“Uh, they’re waiting for the show to start.”

“Get it over with, then.”

You see Ell grit her teeth. You signal JP to start the show and then pat her gently on the arm.

As soon as it starts, you can tell something is wrong with Mattie.

“Okay, Carmilla, _stop this show._ Right now.”

“What?”

“Cut!”

“You’re not the director, Carmilla is!” Ell answers.

“Wait, okay, calm down, guys,” you respond. “Mattie, what’s your problem?”

“They’re dressed like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like...like faux fifties hobos! Where did you get that fabric, the dumpster of a seamstress?”

“Mother isn’t exactly throwing money at us, sis. Our lead, Laura, was generous enough to find us the material and the clothes, and our costume director, Mel--”

“Is fired.”

_“Fired?”_

Shit. You forgot Mel was sitting a few rows back to take costume notes.

“Cast, take five!” you instruct. “Go backstage, please. Mel, look, I know you’re angry--”

“As Hell! I’m sorry, but what did you expect me to make with the material I had to work with? I’m getting carpal tunnel from all the stitching I’ve done!”

She’s gotten up at this point and is glaring daggers at Mattie.

“I will have you know, I am a _world renowned_ fashion designer.”

“Then put your money where your mouth is and do a better job!”

“Oh, I intend to do that. Do you have their measurements?”

“You sound like you’re implying I didn’t bother to take them, which _I did._ ”

“Be a dear, and let me see them, then.”

Ell mouths ‘please’ to Mel; she sighs and hands Mattie her binder.

“Good. Cast out onstage, please!”

Mattie takes a pen from her pocket, walking onstage to look over all the cast members. Occasionally, she’ll hum to herself, or make a comment like ‘she’ll need some foundation’ or ‘who approved this hairdo?’

When she gets to Danny, she takes her chin in her hand. _“Excellent_ bone structure on this one.” She moves her head to the right, and then to the left. Danny looks very uncomfortable.

“Hey, uh...random new lady...D-Bear’s obviously not cool with that.”

Mattie looks at Kirsch. “Oh, how adorable, Romeo.”

“Whoa, whoa, Romeo? He isn’t--”

“I don’t mind, D-Bear, there’s kissing in Romeo and Juliet, right?”

“And Romeo kills himself.”

“...Oh. Then, yeah, I’m not Romeo. I just don’t think it’s cool to touch a hottie unless _they’re_ cool with it, y’know?”

“You are annoying,” Danny replies flatly. She nods to herself and stares forward.

“Well, now that we’re done with this little high school mating ritual,” Mattie exclaims, “I think I have everything I need. I’ll have an entirely new wardrobe and makeup for you tomorrow, dear.”

“Can I let my cast rehearse _now?”_ you ask.

“Of course! I wouldn’t want to keep your little Broadway babies from rehearsing! Meanwhile, I’ll need to make some phone calls. Ta-ta!”   
“Oh, thank God,” Ell groans when she leaves, and the kids laugh.

“Ell…”

“I had forgotten how bad she was, Carmilla, or I would have never suggested using her.”

“She’s getting us better costumes, Ell, don’t complain.” You raise your voice, “And what are all of you looking at? Get ready to start! We’re already behind, do you guys want to stay until ten?”

Laura is pouting. You walk up to the front of the stage. “Hey, Laura,” you whisper. Laura stops and kneels down.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not annoyed because we’re getting new costumes, are you?”

“No, no, of course I’m happy that we’re getting new costumes and everything, but...you know, we worked really hard to get them.”

You smirk. “Hey. This doesn’t negate the fact that you pretty much single-handedly organized a clothing drive for the show. You know that, right?”

Laura smiles, “Yeah, I know.”

You reach up, patting Laura on the arm, “Have a good rehearsal, alright, kid? Remember--”

“Easy tech week, bad show. I know.”

“Great. Break a metaphorical leg.”

“Got it, got it--whoa!” Laura is backing up while still looking at you. She stumbles and falls backwards.

You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m okay!” Laura says, scrambling back up and rushing off.

You laugh, shake your head, and go back to join Ell.

* * *

 

So, the show is a disaster.

The set changes take five minutes. Whole paragraphs of lines are dropped. The dances, which you thought had been going pretty well up until now, look more like spastic jittering.

You can feel Ell squeezing your hand, but all you know is that you’re pissed.

“...Okay. I am not going to mince words, guys. That...fucking...sucked.”

“Carmilla!” Ell gasps.

“Well, I’m sorry, Ell, but what do you want me to say? I have been pouring all of my time into this show, and apparently _they_ can’t even bother to learn some lines and dances! You,” you point at Will, “have we not been working on ‘Alone at the Drive-In’ since at least November? How do you mess _that_ up? The dances I can understand, Ell came in and started teaching them late--it was still unacceptable, but I’ll cut you a little slack. But, your _lines?_ And your _songs?_ People,” you drop the clipboard you were holding on the ground to free both your hands, “I stopped writing down notes around the beginning of act two because I couldn’t keep up! We open on _Friday!”_

They all look like dogs getting swatted with newspaper, or kids that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Laura looks the most upset of all of them. Of course. You sigh.

“...Everyone, I want you to look at Laura over here--”

“What’d I do?” Laura squeaks. The kids laugh nervously.

“Nothing. Laura, you were fine. There’s still some stuff to work out, but you knew what you were doing. Guys,” you take the pen you had tucked behind your ear, pointing it at her, “Laura has been working _hard._ She has a man from Juilliard coming to see her. This is, possibly, the most important performance of her entire life. Do you think they’re going to pay attention to Laura if the set changes are taking five minutes? Do you think it’ll matter what she’s doing if her scene partners are dropping lines and not giving her anything to work with? Please, guys. If you don’t care about me, or Ell, or even _yourselves,_ then at least don’t screw it up for her.”

You sigh. “...Okay. Rehearsal over, make sure your costumes are put back neatly and go home.”

Everyone looks way too uncomfortable to say anything. Including Ell. They all leave in silence to get dressed and, you guess, will probably be slipping out the back to avoid you.

“It was the first day of tech week, sweetheart,” Ell says eventually, standing and putting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure it was just nerves.”

“Better have been,” you grumble.

“Want to go out for dinner tonight? I’ll pay. It’ll de-stress you.”

“Ell, I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood. Can you go home while I lock everything up?”

You see Ell’s expression and add hastily, “It’s nothing personal, we are fine, I just need to clear my head. I promise.”

“Sure. Of course. Don’t get too discouraged, Kitten, okay?”

“I won’t.”

She kisses you goodbye and leaves, her feet dragging. You feel bad about throwing her out like that, especially when your relationship is still on uncertain footing, but, sometimes, you just need space--

“Miss Karnstein?”

Laura is standing behind you when you turn, changed back into her yoga pants and tank top, hair still teased up.

“Yeah, Cupcake?”

“...Um, well, first of all, thanks for the...vote of confidence, I guess? Even though you were kind of being unfair.”

Your forehead creases, jaw setting. “Well, they needed to hear it.”

“Most of them _were_  working hard, Miss Karnstein. And I--I just don’t like that you’re showing me off like that. Everyone already thinks you kind of favor me--”

“Well, you are my favorite,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret it. Laura is blushing.

“Oh--well--that’s--flattering.”

“I didn’t...look, please don’t look too much into it.”

“Well, I already _knew,_ I didn’t expect you to just _admit it_ like that.”

“Well, you really should expect bluntness from me by now,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood. “But, you’re right, and I will try to tone down the Director from Hell tomorrow. And I’ll stop show-ponying you.” You walk past her to grab your stuff.

“Thanks. You shouldn’t be so worried anyway. You’re a great director.” And then, after a moment, you hear her add teasingly, “Even if you don’t know anything about choreography.”

You look back at her. “I happen to be a great dancer.”

“Then, why’d you need Miss Schraeder?”

“I said I’m a great dancer. Doesn’t mean I took dancing lessons. Doesn’t mean I know the first thing about choreography.”

“What can you do, then?”

“I know how to polka.”

Laura’s mouth falls open for a moment; then she clutches her stomach from laughing so hard. She settles with putting a forearm against the wall for support, regulating her breathing.

“And _what_ is so funny?”

 _“You?_ Doing _polka?_ You must be kidding.”

You glare at her. “You. Here.”

Her expression changes immediately. “Wh-what?”

“On the stage.”

You get on the stage and wait for her, tapping your foot.

“Okay, so where did you learn how to polka?” Laura asks, climbing onto the stage, “And _please_ don’t say the ‘Scarsdale Jewish Community Center’.”

“Would you believe, ‘a diplomat’s daughter, in her dorm room at St. Porter’s?’”

She pouts.

“...At Silas Summer Youth Theater, as the lead in a production of _The King and I.”_ You hold out your hand with a smirk, “And I can prove it.”

Laura looks at your outstretched hand. A smile plays on her lips before she bows. “Shall we dance?” She asks, dropping her voice an octave, and taking your hand.

“Come on, Laura. Now, face to face,” you pull her close. “Chest to chest...and there you go.” Her hand settles on your waist. Laura seems to register what’s happening because you see her subtly swallow.

“Um...what now?”

“Follow my lead. One, two, three _and_ one, two, three, _and_ one, two, three…Christ, Cupcake, you’re bad at this.”

 _“Excuse_ me, I’ve never done the polka before! Okay, one, two, three, _and_ one, two, three, _and_...hey, I think I’m getting the hang of it now!”

She is. For the next thirty seconds or so you spin around the stage before you both trip, falling and rolling away from each other.

“So much for _that!”_

 _“You’re_ the one who tripped!” Laura answers, laughing.

“Please.” You sit up, and Laura follows. You both look at each other, sitting cross-legged.

“So, that was fun,” Laura states.

“Yeah.”

You sigh. Laura looks at you.

“What’s up?”

You laugh, leaning your head back and looking at the ceiling before looking at her again.

“Not much. Hell week. You?”

“Same. But, it hasn’t been all bad. Got to dance with my crush. I mean,  it was polka, but still…”

You roll your eyes, giving Laura a light punch in the shoulder. She looks at you and sticks out her tongue.

“Wow, you are immature. Remind me why you’re my favorite again?”

“Because,” Laura starts counting off on her fingers, “I am adorable, and nice, and I am the most talented person you know, _and_ I am all around awesome.”

You look at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

“...What?” Laura asks. “I was joking.”

“Well, you were joking, but none of it was a lie.”

She’s about to answer when you feel your phone vibrate. “Hold on, Cupcake, I got a text.”

_Cinnamon Roll (8:15 PM): Did I leave my purse in the auditorium, hon?_

You look out at the seats. Yep. There’s her purse.

You look at Laura, who seems to have zoned out slightly. She’s looking at some spot inthe distance, a soft smile on her face. She’s…

Making you feel extremely guilty. That is what. You kicked Ell out because you needed to be alone and clear your head, and here you are dancing with Laura.

You’re happy that you’re both friends again, but _this?_

“Laura, you should probably go home.”

She’s startled and looks at you. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m sure your dad is waiting.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry, I just got a little distracted.”

“So did I,” you assure her. “Don’t worry about it.”

Laura bids you goodbye, looking back at you as she leaves the auditorium.

You call Ell.

“...Kitten, hey. Did you find my bag?”

“Yeah. And hey, I changed my mind. Want to go out tonight? I’ll pay. Least I can do.”

“Sure! Um, of course.”

You hear her try to hide how happy she is in her voice, which makes you feel even guiltier.

“Cool. See you later, babe. I love you.”

It’s the first time either of you have said it since you got back together. You’re sure Ell must be positively giddy right now. She doesn’t know that you’ve done it over the phone, out of guilt, while you still feel the ghost of Laura’s hand on your waist.

Day one of tech week. As per tradition, you feel like shit.

****  
  


   

    


	22. Chapter 22

Day two of tech week. In spectacular fashion, Mattie throws open the doors and has assistants wheel down clothing racks full of costumes.

You try and hide your excitement as you rifle through the clothes, but it’s hard. Like, really hard. Pretty much impossible.

“Christ, Mattie, where did you _find_ these?”

“Connections, dear.”

“Such as…?”

“A friend who did costumes for the national tour.”

“How the fuck did they agree to let you borrow these?”

“I’m...persuasive. Just make sure no one ruins them.”

“I will personally strangle anyone who spills anything on these clothes.”

“Oh, Millie, you are my sister!” She ruffles your hair affectionately.

“...Wow, Miss Karnstein, that is some adorable sisterly bonding going on there.”

You look at Danny. “Just sit down in a seat, Lawrence, while we pass out the new costumes.”

“Yo, D-Bear!” Kirsch gallops in and stops, huffing.

“What the Hell, Kirsch?”

“Sorry for almost running into--”

“Not _that._ How many times do I have to tell you my name isn’t D-Bear?”

“Well, mine isn’t Kirsch, technically.”

“Unless my name has suddenly changed to ‘Danny Bear’, the analogy doesn’t really follow.”

“Fine. Whatever.” Kirsch reaches into his backpack. “I just wanted to talk to you because you left a book at my house last night. So here.”

“Whoa, whoa, you were at Kirsch’s house?”

Danny tries to answer, but Kirsch cuts her off.

“Yeah, she’s been there a few times. I’ve been helping her with the dances in return for tutoring me in math. D-Bear’s really good at that stuff.”

Mattie looks confused as she looks at your shocked face.

“Mattie, trust me, this is practically a _scandal._ Kirsch and Danny are _bros.”_

“We are _not_ bros!” Danny exclaims.

“Yeah. She’s an _honorary_ bro, if anything.”

Danny looks at him. Kirsch shrugs, “What?”

She rips the book from his hands. Kirsch recoils and goes to grab his costume bag. Mattie helps him search through the racks.

You look at Danny.

 _“Don’t._ We are not friends. At all. He’s still a jerk.”

“I don’t know. I think I see some progress.”

“Like what?” Danny says, trying to look uninterested.

“A few months ago he was calling you ‘Summer Psycho’. Now, he’s calling you ‘D-Bear’. That’s the definition of character development, ginger.”

“Whatever--he’s still--well, no one is horrible one hundred percent of the time--”

You point behind you, “For your sake, I’m going to tell you to stop talking and go find your costume bag.”

Danny’s mouth snaps shut and she pushes past you, grabbing her stuff.

“Alright, kids, we got new costumes,” you say as people walk in. “If you’re here, find the bag with your name on it and get dressed.”

Laura walks in, takes one look at the rack of costumes, and grins from ear to ear.

“Oh my gosh, these look so cool!” She runs up to them, looking through the racks. “These are _amazing!_ I feel like I’m really on Broadway now! This is so exciting!”

You look at her with an amused smile. “Uh, kid, you might want to grab yours.”

“Oh. Right. Sorry. I’m just...you know…” She rubs her hands excitedly, _“Professional_ costumes!”  

“Not just professional,” you correct, “my sister got these from the national tour.”

“Well, tell your sister she’s awesome!”

“You can tell me yourself,” Mattie drawls from behind her, and Laura startles.

“Oh! Yeah. Thank you, um, Miss--”

“Belmonde.”

“Well, these are amazing costumes.” Laura looks at another. Mattie frowns.

“Keep your hands off them unless they’re yours.” Mattie says, and Laura smiles sheepishly.

“Sorry.” She takes her bag and walks out.

“She’s...excitable,” Mattie says, looking at you.

“Who is?” Ell asks, walking into the auditorium, “Am I late? I had to wait in my car. I parked and saw your Mother walking out of the building.”

“Did she see you?”

“No, thank God. If she had, I doubt I’d be talking to you right now…but seriously,” she plants a quick kiss to your temple, looking at Mattie, “who’s excitable?”

“Laura,” you answer.

“She’s playing Sandy, isn’t she?” Mattie asks.

“Yeah, she is.”

“I can see why. I talked to her for thirty seconds and I already feel diabetic.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ell answers. You look at her.

_“Babe.”_

Mattie looks at Ell with a bemused smile.

“Well, we’ve moved on from that. She really is a sweetheart,” Ell says. “I’m...going to help the kids find their costumes.”

“I think I like her,” Mattie says.

“Who, Ell? Finally.”

“No, not _her._ Your little lead over there. I could tell from Ell’s tone she must have done _something._ She sounds like fun.”

You roll your eyes.

* * *

 

“This is going better than yesterday,” you whisper to Ell.

“I _told_ you it would, hon.”

“I said _better.”_ You show her your clipboard, “I still shouldn’t have this many notes for them.”

“Oh, those are just nitpicks,” Ell says brightly, clapping when the cast finishes act one. You stand up.

“Okay, act one notes. Set changes are still a little too long guys. Rizzo, Kenickie...better job today.”

Without looking at him, Danny gives Kirsch a high five.

“Yeah, Danny, those _dancing lessons_ are paying off,” Laura says, grinning at Danny. She returns it with a glare and Laura looks back at you, still smiling.

“Laura, fine job, as always. LaFontaine, you need to remember to turn out…”

You read through the rest of the notes. “Okay, guys, ten minute break before we start act two. Drink some water. No food unless you think you can change out of costume, eat, and get back into costume in ten minutes.”

Leaning your head back in your seat, you feel a hand grab yours.

“Hey, Kitten, are you going to eat?”

“Eh, I’m fine.”

“Here.” You feel the hand being removed, replaced with something round. You look down and see that it’s a clementine.

“Eat,” Ell says. You wrinkle your nose at her, but unpeel the clementine and start eating.

“Hey, Miss Karnstein,” you hear Laura say. She sits down with Danny, Perry, and LaFontaine in front of you and Ell on the floor. Laura takes a long drink of water.

Okay. After that...that little moment yesterday, you know you have to be careful. No more one-on-ones with Laura. Purely for Laura and Ell’s sake, of course. You don’t want either of them to get the wrong idea. Because you know you don’t have a thing for Laura, but it might not come off that way to them.

You _definitely_ don’t have anything resembling a thing for her.

And even if you did--theoretically-- Ell is holding your hand right now. Your extremely attractive, sweetheart of a girlfriend. No one can compete with that.

So, if you want to talk to Laura while said girlfriend is sitting right next to you, that’s okay. Especially with the rest of the ginger squad around, too. Just be calm. She is a teenager. She. Is. A. Kid.

“Hey, friend. Pal. _Kiddo.”_ Laura looks at you strangely. As does everyone else within earshot.

_No. NO. This is NOT CALM. ELL IS LITERALLY RIGHT NEXT TO YOU._

Laura raises an eyebrow. “Uh, hey again, buddy…?”

You stammering out a greeting to Laura like an idiot. Oh, how the tables have turned. Ell looks concerned. Why should she be concerned?

“So, um, _Laura,”_ Ell says, trying to drag you out of the pit of awkwardness, “is the Juilliard representative coming on opening night?”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

Laura shrugs. “I’m not supposed to know. I hope he doesn’t come to the third one, though. That one’s always the worst.”

“You’ll be great in whatever one he sees you in,” Danny answers.

“I don’t know. I mean, I still don’t feel like I’m doing ‘You’re the One That I Want’ right...and I mean, I don’t know why, but I just don’t feel like ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You’ is as strong as it could be vocally--”

“You’re overthinking it,” you interrupt, unable to help yourself, “it sounds fine, Laura.”

“I guess...but this is _Juilliard._ They don’t want _fine._ They want exceptional.”

“You’ve got other places to go, though, don’t you?” LaFontaine says.

“I’ve got other auditions. Michigan, Carnegie, and NYU.”

“NYU is a great school,” Ell offers. “You shouldn’t be disappointed if you end up going there, Laura, Carmilla and I did.”

“Yeah, and look where we ended up,” you point out. Ell gives you a look. “...You’ll do great, Laura, wherever you end up going.”

Laura hugs her knees to her chest. “I just want to go _somewhere,”_ she says. “I love everyone here and everything, but I always wanted to travel, you know? See the big city.” She looks at LaF, Perry, and Danny. “Haven’t any of you ever felt like that…?”

“I’m learning to take over Lola’s for when my parents retire,” Perry answers. “I never thought of leaving Silas.”

“I don’t know, I just go wherever they’ll need bio majors.”

“And I was planning on going to community college for two years,” Danny adds, “so I still have time before I even think about leaving.”

Laura looks at you. “Are you staying in Silas, Miss Karnstein? I mean, once you pay off your loans and whatever.”

You and Ell answer at the same time.

“Not sure.”

“Yes.”

You look at each other. Ell bites her lip uncomfortably. “Well--I mean--I guess we’re _not_ sure.”

“You _really_ have your heart set on opening a studio here, huh?”

“You’re opening a studio?” Laura asks.

“Ell is,” you answer.

“Carmilla was thinking of doing it with me.”

“But, you know, it isn’t something we need to talk about right now.” You pop a piece of

clementine into your mouth. “Okay, guys, back onstage for act two. Danny, I’m looking forward to seeing if those _dancing lessons_ paid off.”

Danny storms off to get back onstage. Ell shifts her hand out of your grasp to place it in her lap.

“...I thought you liked the idea.”

“I said it wasn’t a _terrible_ idea,” you correct.

“Oh.”

You look at her. “Ell. Hey, babe, look at me. Please?” She does.

“Look, we’ll talk about this. Eventually. I _promise,_ but I’ve got to worry about tech week right now, you know?” You hold out the half of the clementine you didn’t eat. “Now come on, Cinnabon, you need to eat something, too.”

She smiles, taking the food from your hand and popping a piece into her mouth.

“Thank you,” she says softly. You notice that she doesn’t take your hand again. At least she doesn’t look so melancholy anymore.


	23. Chapter 23

You decide that Tuesday will be reserved for fixing musical numbers, since they still need work. You’ve cooled down since Sunday, and frankly, after Monday, you’ve been a little distracted by other... _realizations_ to get too worked up over anything else.

“Laura, you look like you’re allergic to Will. And when you try and look ‘sexy’, your face resembles a dead fish.”

She looks at you, crossing her arms. “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’m _trying_ to be natural, like you and Miss Schraeder told me to, but I can’t.”

“No, I don’t think that’s the problem,” you respond. “The problem is that you _are_ being natural. Naturally awkward.”

“Wow. Ha ha.”

Will runs a hand through his hair that’s stiff and slicked down with hair gel. “Okay, what do you want us to do?”

“I’m going to show you. Okay.”

You leave your seat next to Ell and jump onto the stage. “Laura, look at me and repeat everything I do. JP, play the music with the lyrics.”

You stand in front of them. Will does his part--on ‘it’s electrifyin’, he ends on his knees at Laura’s feet.

Laura looks at you out of the corner of her eye. You lift your leg, trying not to stumble.

_“Seriously?”_

“Put your foot on his chest, Hollis! And sing over the track, if you’re able to.”

Laura puts her foot on Will’s chest. “You better shape up…” she pushes him and he falls on his back. “‘Cause I need a man…”

You walk forward and Laura follows your lead, Will scooching backwards on the ground. “And my heart is set on you!”

You mime taking Will’s hand. Laura grabs it and pulls Will to his feet. “You better shape up, you better understand, to my heart I must be true.” She and Will sing their next line in unison.

“Nothin’ left, nothin’ left for me to do!”

And, on ‘you’re the one that I want’, you turn to the audience--as do Laura and Will--put your hands on your hips and step in place. Left, right, left, right. You’re sure there’s a name for it, but that’s Ell’s job. All you know is that they did it in the movie.

Ell, meanwhile, looks like it’s Christmas morning.

“What is so funny, Ell?”

“Nothing is funny, it’s just...you know, you look so serious.”

You smile at Ell as the song goes into the next verse.

“Alright Laura, you try it by yourself now.”

“Um...what?”

“Come on! Just pretend you’re me.”

“O-okay.” Laura looks at Will and takes a deep breath. She puts a finger under his chin and starts walking backwards, Will allowing himself to be lead. “If you’re filled with affection, you’re too shy to convey…” Laura put her palm flat on Will’s chest again and dragged it to his shoulder as she walked behind him. “Meditate in my direction--”

Laura took her other hand, put it on Will’s chest from behind, and pulled herself flush against his body to stage whisper in his ear, “Feel your way.”

“HOLY SHIT.”

“Will, that’s not your line! JP, cut it, please?” Ell says.  

You can feel your face flushing. “Uh…Laura. Good work.”

So that’s how Laura pretended to be you. No wonder she’s had a crush on you for months.

Laura grins. “Yeah, it just clicked, I guess. Thanks!”

“Take five and we’ll start from the top of the show.”

Laura looks at Will. “Uh, you might want to close your mouth.”

“Right.”

Laura leaves, probably to get water or something.

“Will, you can’t get so distracted by Laura that you forget to, you know, _sing.”_

Will looks at you. “I’m sorry, Miss K. But, it was the first time Laura did that, I mean, can you blame me?”

_No, to be honest, I totally get what you mean…_

“Believe it or not, I don’t ogle my students. Now, get ready for the run through.”

“Right.” Will jumps off the stage.

“Aw, look at you being all serious,” Ell teases.

You look at her and cross your arms. “When am I ever _not_ serious, Ell?”

“Well, sometimes you’re sarcastic. Occasionally, you’ll even be mildly amused.”

“Ah, yes.” You sit on the edge of the stage, feet dangling, “That one is reserved for your eyes only.”

Ell gets up and saunters toward you, she crosses her arms on your thighs, resting her head on them. “Wow. I feel so honored.”

Your hand goes to Ell’s hair and you start petting it, softly, as she looks up at you. This is it, isn’t it? This is how it should be. Just you and Ell, without any other people getting in the way--

“Hey, Carm?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“...Where do you want to be in five years?” she asks.

You frown; your hand stills. “You really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“Dedicating my Tony Award to you.”

It’s a cop out, you know it. Ell smiles, sighing.

“I should have known you’d say that.”

“It’s the truth. How about you?”

“I don’t know. Preferably with you.”

You’re sure Ell is imagining the white picket fence and mini van. You’re imagining an apartment that overlooks Central Park. You look down and kiss Ell.

“Same.”

“How has tech week worked out so far?”

 _Great! I have weird feelings about one of my students, and it’s consuming me with guilt. But, I can’t. Stop. Talking to her._ “...Not as bad as years previous.”

“Good.” Ell smiles. “I’m going to go backstage and do a last minute check to see if we have all the props.”

She walks away. You lie back on the stage. You should be happy. _That_ should have made you happy. All it does is make you nervous.

“Hey, Miss K!”

You sit back up. “Kirsch? You’ve got to get ready for the runthrough.”

“I know, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

Wow. A one-on-one conversation with a student that isn’t Laura. “Okay. Lay it on me.”

“Okay,” Kirsch walks closer to you. “So, you can’t tell anyone. As in, _nobody._ This is a super serious--”

“You have a crush on Danny.”

_“Who told you?”_

“Kirsch, _everyone_ knows you like Danny.”

 _“Shhh!”_ Kirsch puts a finger to your lips, looking left and right.

“Hands off, Bromeo. And I told you, you’re not exactly subtle about it.”

Kirsch’s hand retreats and he smiles sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“Is there any particular reason you’re telling your director about it?”

“I need your help.”

“With what, exactly…?”

Kirsch leans in again and whispers, “I want to ask D-Bear to prom. As friends, you know?”

Wow.

“And how am I, your teacher, supposed to figure into this?”

“I--I don’t know.”

“Really thought this through, huh?”

Kirsch rubs the back of his head, looking away. “I don’t know, okay? But, I wanted to do something cool and--well, y’know, we only became friends because we were doing this.”

“So, you want your ‘promposal’ to involve the theater?”

“Kind, of yeah. I think D-Bear would be into that.”

He honest to God looks like a puppy. Despite all of the teasing you’ve thrown her way, you actually don’t know if Danny likes Kirsch enough to go to prom with him. But, you do feel kind of bad, so you sigh.

“...Okay, Kirsch. I’ve got an idea for you. Want to know how I asked Ell to prom sophomore year?”

Kirsch grins. You talk with him for about ten minutes in hushed whispers before you finally tell him that he better ‘woman up’ and go through with this before he goes backstage.

* * *

 

Wednesday. Second to last rehearsal.

“...You know, I feel so out of place sometimes, hearing you talk about the cast,” Ell says, walking into the auditorium with you.

“What do you mean?”

“He wants to ask a girl he likes to prom, and you’re talking like this is the equivalent of someone rising from the dead or something.”

“Ell, trust me. If you had showed up about a week earlier, this would seem like a way bigger deal.”

“You know, the Carmilla I knew in New York would have never agreed to help someone ask a girl to prom.”

You smile at her. “Well, I’ve changed.”

“You have,” Ell agrees, "And I think it is _so sweet_ that you thought of when you asked me to prom when you were helping Kirsch."  Ell gives you a quick kiss before going to talk to JP about tech. You put your hands in your pockets and sigh. You can’t believe you’re actually doing this.

“Hey, Miss K!”

“Bromeo. Ready to go?”

Kirsch gave a lopsided smile, “I’m kind of nervous, but yeah.”

“Well, that’s normal.” Especially when there’s a fifty-fifty chance that he will get punched for doing it.

“Yeah, I just hope this will work--”

“What will work?”

“L-Dog!” Kirsch turns around and gives a very unconvincing smile. “Uh--well--”

“We fixed one of the spotlights,” you answer, which isn’t actually a lie.

“Seriously? Hey, that’s awesome!”

“You better get into costume, Laura. Mike checks are in five.”

Laura gives you a thumbs up. “Thank you five!” she says, walking down the aisle to get backstage.

“...Thanks, Miss K.”

“Let’s just get this little love connection over with.”

* * *

 

“One, two, three, four--tell me about it, stud.”

“Okay Laura, you’re good,” JP says from the booth. “Danny, you’re next.”

Danny steps forward in the line. “One, two, three, four--I’ve got so many hickies people will think I’m a leper.”

“Okay, Kirsch, you’re up next.”

“...Where the Hell is Kirsch?” Danny asks after about fifteen seconds of silence.

You walk up behind JP and Ell in the booth and whisper something in JP’s ear.

“Why?”

“Just do it, JP, trust me.”

JP shrugs. Ell looks at you with an amused smile. The track for _You’re the One That I Want_ starts playing and Kirsch walks out onstage with a sign in his hands, the letters hand painted to look like the font from the title of the show.

**Can I be the one that you want at prom?**

(Originally he wanted to write ‘You’re the one that I want for prom’. You advised against that. Frankly, Danny is the one doing Kirsch a favor.)

Kirsch grins and looks at Danny. She looks to the left. Then, the right. _“...Me?”_

“Uh, yeah.”

Danny looks shocked, and the entire room has gone completely silent. “...Wow, Kirsch. Sure.”

Kirsch jumps in the air and fist pumps. Laura starts asking everyone if they have a camera. Danny starts laughing and shakes her head, and you walk down to the front.

“Laura!”

“Huh?”

You reach into your pocket and toss her your iPhone. “Here.”

“Guys, get a picture!” Laura exclaims.

“Sure! D-Bear, come on!”

Danny and Kirsch stand next to each other, each holding one side of the sign.

“You totally did this in front of everybody so I wouldn’t say ‘no,’” Danny says to Kirsch while smiling for the photo.

“...Would you have said ‘no’?” Kirsch asks.

Danny looks at Kirsch, smiling softly. “Wow. You sweet, silly manchild. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but no. I would have said ‘yes.’”

Laura snaps the picture, the two of them looking at each other.

“This is so going on Instagram,” Laura says.

“...Aw, Miss Karnstein, are you smiling?”

Laura sits down on the edge of the stage, smiling at you.

“What?”

“You totally helped Kirsch, didn’t you? You look pretty proud of yourself.”

“I _may_  have given Kirsch the idea for the sign.”

Laura puts a hand to her chest. “Wow, Miss Karnstein. You’re nice to people that aren’t me or Miss Schraeder. I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

You roll your eyes, smiling. “Just get ready to run.” You raise your voice, “Everyone, you can all pat Danny and Kirsch on the back later. Second to last run through!”

All the Burger Palace Boys pick Kirsch up on their shoulders and carry him to the dressing room, chanting, “Kirsch is king! Kirsch is king! Kirsch is king!”

“Idiots,” Danny mutters to herself, but gives Kirsch a high five as he is carried away.

You have to admit, you’re starting to understand why Betty is so proud of getting you and Ell together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: saying 'thank you five' when it's five minutes until places or mike checks is just a tradition among theatre people. For any non-thespians confused by that!


	24. Chapter 24

The final rehearsal. _The_ rehearsal.

There’s always something about that last rehearsal before you get an audience. When everything just sort of _clicks._ There are notes--no production is perfect--but you finally see exactly what it is you’ve created.

And, amazingly, you’re kind of proud of it.

“Guys, that was good. I think we’re in good shape. _Really_ good shape. Let’s be clear though--stay focused! I don’t want you not giving your best tomorrow night. So...get some sleep. Go to bed as soon as you can--I’m not going to pretend you don’t have homework that’ll keep you up, but try and get to bed before midnight?”

You clear your throat. “...But, most importantly, uh...I’m proud of you all. Very proud. And it’s been great being your director. Ell?”

Ell stands up. She puts a hand on your shoulder. “...I know I came in a little late, but you made me feel so welcome that I feel like I’ve known you all since November.” Ell looks at you. “Who says you can’t go home again, right?”

You smile. “Yeah.”

“...Anyway, Carmilla and I are so proud of all of you. Good luck tomorrow!”

“Hey,” Danny held up a hand as she walked past you, “we always gave Mrs. Spielsdorf a high five at the last rehearsal. It’s tradition.”

You roll your eyes, but hold up your hand. “Alright. Make it quick, guys.”

The cast cheers and makes a line down the aisle, running past you and slapping your hand. It kind of resembles football players running out onto the field.

Laura high fives you last. “Hey, how does it feel being ‘new Mrs. Spielsdorf’?”

“I’ve been ‘new Mrs. Spielsdorf’ for months.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, well, when Kirsch and Danny run away together, break up after five years, then get back together again, let me know. Then I’ll really be the new Mrs. Spielsdorf.”

“You’re better than Mrs. Spielsdorf.”

“Better, or hotter?”

Laura blushes. “...See you tomorrow, Miss Karnstein.”

“I’ll see you, Laura.”

She walks out of the lobby.

“Carmilla,” Ell says. You turn and face her.

“Yeah?”

“Are _you_ ready for tomorrow?” She inquires.

You shrug. “What’s a director do? I go in, I’ll give them another pep talk, I watch the show.”

“I remember Betty doing a little more than that…”

“You mean, running like a chicken with her head cut off?” You laugh. “Seriously, Ell, does that seem like my style?”

“I guess not.” She gives you a kiss. “I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“You should be. What do you want to do?”

Ell sighs. _“I_ have to go have dinner with my parents tonight.”

 _“Seriously?”_ You groan. “Haven’t you gotten your own place, yet?”

“It’s hard to juggle apartment hunting with having a job, and spending time with your parents _and_ your secret girlfriend. Not to mention this show--”

“Alright, alright, you got me,” you answer, raising your hands. “I’ll see you after school tomorrow. Hug before you go?”

Ell walks forward and wraps her arms around you.

“You know, as fun as this show has been, I’ll be glad when it’s over.”

 _“God,_ yes.”

“You’ve been kind of out of it lately with all the work you’ve been doing.”

You stiffen.

“... ‘Out of it’?”

“You know. Distracted. Checked out. For the past couple of weeks.” Ell pulls back to look at you. “But, I totally understand, all the stress with the show and everything must be making you exhausted, right?”

You see that she’s scrutinizing you. And the way she said it. _Right._ Like she suspects it might be something else.

“Yeah, I can’t wait for this to be over so I can get some energy back,” you respond, trying to keep your face perfectly calm.

Ell relaxes slightly. You fooled her.

“I’ll see you.” Ell walks out the back door. You rub the back of your head, sigh and walk out into the lobby. You stop.

“Laura, what are you doing here?”

Laura is standing by one of the windows, looking outside. “My dad just called and said he got a flat tire. I was trying to see if there were any cars still in the parking lot. There aren’t. Well, there’s one--”

“That’s mine.”

Laura looks at you. Shit. And Ell just left. Once again, the universe has decided that it finds making you uncomfortable amusing.

“...Come on, Laura, I’ll drive you home.”

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t pretend you’re not giving me puppy-dog eyes hoping I would offer.”

“Well, thanks.”

You open the door. “After you, Cupcake.”

Laura walks out. You feel a little embarrassed having Laura sit in your old, beat up panther that you bought for 2000 bucks.

“...Danny is really excited about prom,” Laura says, “I mean, she says she’s more excited about the dress and everything, but we all know she’s just trying to not make a big deal out of it.”

“Well, I’m glad she didn’t punch him,” you answer, unlocking the car and opening the door to let Laura sit in the front seat. “What about you? Going stag?”

“No, Will asked me.”

“Ha. Poor guy has no idea he’s got no chance.”

Laura slips into the passenger seat. “Don’t remind me. I still feel bad about that.”

“His fault for assuming you’re straight, Laura.”

“I guess…”

You get into the driver’s side, putting your key in the ignition and pulling out of the parking lot.

“It’s kind of weird, Danny/Kirsch,” Laura continues, “‘Cause I had a crush on Danny until sophomore year.”

Your brow furrows as your hands grip the wheel, speeding up a little. “...You and _Xena?”_

“Yeah. That’s kind of when I realized I was...you know. Gay. Danny came out when we were both freshmen and I--I mean, I wasn’t ready, I’m still not _really,_ you know? So, I didn’t tell her.”

You think about how close Danny and Laura are. How protective she is of her. If Laura had come out to Danny freshman year, you could imagine them getting together.

She’s a foot taller than Laura. How ridiculous would that have looked? At least Laura learned to have better taste--

_“...Hello?”_

“What?”

“Uh...you missed the turn for my house.”

“You didn’t tell me where your house was.”

“You didn’t hear me saying ‘turn here, turn here, turn _here’_ for the last thirty seconds?” Laura asks. She turns on the radio.

Wow, you zoned out. _Shit._ Girlfriend, Karnstein. Remember your girlfriend--

Crap, Laura mouths the words to songs on the radio. That’s adorable.

“Sorry, Cupcake, I’ll turn around the first chance I get--”

“Actually...um...there’s something I usually do the night before I start a show...I wasn’t going to ask since you’re already doing me a favor, but now that we’re going that way, maybe you could?”

You look at Laura out of the corner of your eye. “What is it?”

Laura bites her lip. “Could you--maybe--stop at the cemetery?”

Cemetery--oh. _Oh._

Mrs. Summers.

“...Sure thing.”

“I mean, you don’t have to--”

“It’s _fine,_ Laura. ‘No, I won’t let you visit your dead mother’. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Laura looks at you quizzically before smiling. “Do I have to answer that?”

“Ha, ha. _You’re_ the one who said you had a crush on me, remember?”

“Well, maybe I’m over you now,” Laura replies.

“Yeah, right,” you respond, and, for some reason, that sits almost as badly as the thought of Laura having a thing for the ginger giant.

“Shouldn’t you be happy, what with the girlfriend and everything?”

Laura is looking at you, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. Oh no. Laura can’t be getting suspicious, too.

“...Just remind me where the cemetery is, _kid.”_

Laura frowns. “Make a left, it’ll be right there.”

‘Bad Blood’ is playing on the radio, and Laura taps her thigh to the beat as you drive. You pull over to the side of the road; there’s a hill next to you. The cemetery is at the top.

“Okay, Laura, go ahead. Don’t take too long, okay? And call your dad so he knows where you are.”

Laura nods quickly, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. “Thank you! Sure!”

You watch Laura walk up the hill. Your head hits the steering wheel.

 _“What is wrong with me?”_ you groan. If you hadn’t been so distracted by your stupid jealous thoughts--irrational jealous thoughts!--Laura would be home by now and you wouldn’t be stuck in the car, wondering why you’re willing to do favors for her when you probably--definitely--would have said no to Perry or LaF or Danny…

Except, you know exactly why. And you thought coming out would be the end of having to repress your feelings. You guess it’s just part of being an adult.

Yeah, this whole ‘adult’ thing? Not working out great for you.

And Ell wants you to stay in Silas. That would be the best thing. Laura is probably going to be going to NYU or Juilliard. That’s New York. And you’d never see Laura again.

But, the idea of never seeing Laura again makes you feel almost as sick as the thought of living in Silas the rest of your life.

You love Ell, you do, you _did,_ but she could never understand how much you do not belong here. She is perfect. Cheerleader, popular, beloved by all. According to everyone else, _you_ have been her only mistake.

Which kind of gives an idea of how you are treated.

The whole thing is giving you a headache, _and_ nausea, _and_ the car feels way too cramped--you need to pace. You need fresh air. You get out of the car and start walking. The hill is steeper than you realized and, by the time you get to the top, you’re reminded of how out of shape you are from all the late-night Chinese takeout.

You stop when you hear Laura’s voice. You still can’t see her.  

“...Anyway, things have been fantastic this year. I’m really nervous, but I remember what you said--that the most important thing is to have fun. And I have been! Mrs. Spielsdorf got a new job. Our new director is great, though…”

You feel your stomach do a flip-flop as Laura takes a breath.

“...She was one of your students, actually. Remember? Carmilla Karnstein? She still has your beanie, you know. She tried to give it back to me. She’s really nice...and, um, Mom? I kind of...have a crush on her.”

You already know that. Why do you feel yourself start to blush? You hear Laura laughing.

“It’s stupid to be so nervous, isn’t it? Besides the fact that I’m talking to a gravestone...but yeah. I’m gay. I’m sure you wouldn’t have had a problem with it, Mom. And it’s not even a big deal. Miss Karnstein knows, and she’s been really cool about it. Plus, she has a girlfriend, our choreographer. She’s really nice, too. But, you know what, Mom? At first I was jealous, but now it actually makes me _happy._ You know, that she’s happy with her. And...and it scares the crap out of me because I know I still like her, but it’s not this irrational crush anymore if now seeing her with someone else makes me--”

You can’t hear the rest of this.

“Laura!” You call, walking up to the top of the hill. In the dark you see Laura turn.

“Miss Karnstein! Um, how much did you…?”

“I just got here,” you lie, “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Oh! Sorry I took awhile.” Laura turns her head to look back at the grave, smiling wistfully, “Goodbye, Mom.”

Laura walks past you. “You coming?”

“...Can I get a minute?” you ask. “I...well, you know.”

Laura smiles. “Sure. I’ll wait for you by the car.”

Laura walks away. You start talking because, honestly, you have no right to make sure she’s not listening, do you?

“Hey, Mrs. Summers. Sorry I didn’t keep in touch. Better late than never though, right? Ha, ha…”

Wow, you’re bad at this. You walk closer to the gravestone. You use your phone to read the words engraved on it. The epitaph reads:

_God gave us music that we may pray without words._

You smile. It’s a fitting epitaph. “Okay, let’s try this again. It’s Carmilla. You were my music teacher when I was eight years old. You helped shape the course of my life. I should probably be mad at you. I’m broke. I’m stuck in Silas. I’m forced to work up close and personal with my _mother.”_

You look back.

“...But, I have to admit, if none of that happened, I wouldn’t have met Laura.”

You’re spilling your feelings out to a rock. That’s supposed to make you feel ridiculous so you stop talking, but it makes you talk faster instead.

“She is special,” you continue, “I...at first I thought I would have to accept living in Silas the rest of my life. I felt like I gave up. But, your daughter...she makes me feel like this isn’t me being a failure. Helping somebody who’s so into what she does, helping this cast...maybe this is just as important as winning a Tony Award. They all had a teacher, didn’t they? And...knowing that she’s going back to New York...it makes me want to not give up, either.” You force a laugh.  “In the words of your daughter, that ‘scares the crap out of me.’”

Laura’s father is probably worried sick. It’s time to wrap it up. “I won’t try anything. I promise. I have a girlfriend and we’ve both given up too much to not make it work. And I’m not going to ruin Laura’s life by having her date her teacher, either. And hey...thank you. For being the first person to give me a shot.”

You sigh, and turn to go back to the car. When you buckle your seatbelt, Laura smiles at you.

“Good conversation?”

“Yeah. It was.”

“Dad never likes coming here with me. I kind of feel like he might have even lied about the flat tire because he knew I’d want to go...so, thank you.”

You look at Laura and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. You start the car and don’t comment on it while Laura blushes and looks slightly shocked.

“Don’t mention it, Cupcake. Now, let’s get you home.”


	25. Chapter 25

The next day, you don’t even pretend to teach. Every period is a study hall, which, of course, none of your students complain about. You spend each class a mess, strumming your fingers against the desk or your thigh as you try and focus on reading a copy of _To Kill A Mockingbird_ you stole from the freshman English class.

And, of course, Laura, Perry, and Danny all walk in singing.

“The overture is about to start…” Laura looks at Perry.

“You cross your fingers and hold your heart!”

“It’s curtain time and it goes to show…” Danny continues. They all sit down and sing in unison.

“Another opening of another show!” You roll your eyes.

“The three of you are why theater people get stuffed into lockers.”

“Don’t pretend you’re not excited, Miss Karnstein,” Perry responds, “we all know you care more than you let on.”

“And you shouldn’t listen to everything Laura tells you. Hey, Danny, how is getting ready for prom?”

You successfully divert their attention to teasing Danny, and you go back to your book. Your phone buzzes and you check your texts.

_Cinnamon Roll (10:15 AM): Hey, everything okay? You haven’t been returning any of my calls._

_Carmilla (10:16): I don’t need to text you every five minutes, Ell. I’m working._

You frown at the message. That wasn’t fair. Ell didn’t do anything wrong.

_Carmilla (10:16 AM): Sorry. Laura asked me to take her to the cemetery to visit her mother. Kind of puts a damper on the spirits._

_Cinnamon Roll (10:20 AM): OMG, I feel so stupid now. I’m sorry baby. :( That was really sweet of you to do for her, though. I’ll talk to you after school when we set up the front of house, okay? Love you and proud of you. <3_

It took her four minutes. Maybe you’re overthinking it, but you’re imagining Ell, looking at your message. _She drove Laura somewhere? Why would she be with Laura after rehearsal…_

Not that there was anything wrong with what you did, ethically. Teachers give students rides, it happens. Then again, most teachers don’t have cr...confusing feelings about those students.

And the ones who do go to jail if they act on it. Which you always make sure to remind yourself of.

“...Miss Karnstein?”

“Sorry, what?” What is it with Laura always catching you when you’re not paying

attention?

“I was saying, you excited for tonight?”

“Are you kidding? I’m incredibly excited. Pumped. Absolutely. Are the three of you ready?”

“Didn’t us singing show tunes give it away?” Danny asks, grinning. “Totally!”

She’s been a lot nicer to you lately. You guess Kirsch told her you helped him with his little promposal.

The enthusiasm from them is infectious. Your smile is starting to feel natural. The class has gotten way too loud and a teacher will probably yell at you for it later, but you don’t care.

“Alright, mini pep talk time. Danny, you are a fantastic Rizzo. Probably better than I would have been. I was so convinced I was born to play the role that I wouldn’t have taken any direction. Perry, sometimes the only thing that stood between me and a straitjacket in a padded room was your baked goods. Especially during tech week. And Laura…”

You pause for a moment and lock eyes with her. Suddenly, you forget what you were going to say. “...You know.”

Danny looks at Laura pointedly. Perry just looks confused. You’re suddenly really glad the rest of the class is too busy throwing spitballs to notice this exchange.

“Uh, well, just make sure you’re all ready for tonight. See you.” You lift your book up, leaning back and blocking your face.

You catch Laura smiling in your direction when you put the book down right before the bell rings.

* * *

 

You’re trying to carry a cardboard cutout of a jukebox to its proper place in the lobby when you hear someone kick open the doors.

“MRS. SPIELSDORF IS BACK!” she exclaims.

“Betty!” The cardboard cutout drops to the floor and you run at Betty and give her a hug. “When did your plane land?”

“About an hour ago. Need some help carrying that cutout?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

She takes one side while you take the other, carrying it to a spot near the door of the auditorium. “The lobby looks great. Where’d you find this?”

“Ell did, actually,” you answer. Betty smiles.

“How are you two?”

“Fantastic,” you lie. Although, as far as Ell knows for sure, there isn’t anything wrong. And you know Ell--there’s no way she’ll flat out ask you if she’s suspicious. The plan at the moment is the classic Karnstein tradition of pretending your feelings don’t exist. Which has worked out great for you, thus far.

Your phone rings. “Carmilla, here?”

“Is your Mom in the lobby?”

“No, Ell, you’re good.”

Betty looks at you when you say her name. “Principal Morgan doesn’t know?”

“She doesn’t want anything to do with the theater, so it’s not as hard to hide as you’d think.”

“I am so proud of you right now, you have no idea.”

Ell walks into the lobby. You put your plan into action, walk up to Ell, and give her a hug and a long kiss for good measure.

“...Wow...hey.”

“Hey, babe,” you respond, your good mood returning somewhat. Because, as weird as things have been with you and Laura lately, kissing Ell is still far from unpleasant. “You ready for the show?”

“I’m a little distracted _now,_ but sure.” Ell pulls you closer, resting her forehead against yours and you both smile. Maybe you’ve been overreacting--

“Wow, guys, get a room.”

“Shut up, Betty, Carmilla and I are trying to get a few moments of peace before we have to run around backstage.”

“Hey, I was kidding. But, man,” Betty walks between you both, her arms going around yours and Ell’s shoulders, “I am just so happy it all worked out, you know? It’s just like old times--Mrs. Spielsdorf and her two favorite students.”

“Oh, happy days are here again,” you answer, rolling your eyes. “But, Betty, the show isn’t starting until seven. So you’ve got two hours to kill.”

“What do you mean? I’m helping backstage.”

“Betty, you’re a guest,” Ell replies. “You really don’t have to--”

“I didn’t get a master’s degree in theater because I didn’t enjoy being backstage, Ell. I’m going to help and don’t you dare argue. Understood?”

You’ve spent months as the ship captain who doesn’t know how to sail, so you’re not going to argue too much when a sailor is offering to help you.

“...Okay, Betty, if you really want to.”

“Great--oh my God, Kirsch! How are you doing?” Betty waves at the senior who has just walked in, walking over to talk to him.

“Carmilla, come here,” Ell whispers. She pulls you into a hallway, pulling her forehead to yours again.

“Wow, Ell, what’s the occasion?”

“Does there need to be? Besides...I don’t know, I feel bad about this morning.”

“Don’t be. Visiting the cemetery wasn’t that bad. Even though Laura kept singing

along to the radio.”

You try and fake a laugh.

“Um...Carmilla?”

“Mm-hm?”

“You know...I trust you, right?”

It almost feels like Ell’s forehead against yours is sucking the heat from your body, leaving you cold. You try to ignore the feeling and put your hands on her hips.

“Why would you not?”

Ell bites her lip. “I mean, whenever one of us mentions Laura, or you’re talking to Laura with me, you always seem kind of off.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say quickly. A little too quickly.

Ell breaks eye contact with you for a second. “I love you,” she says softly, more to herself than to you, before she looks at you again. “I love you, and I want you to know that you don’t need to be nervous about being friends with her. You’re allowed to like other girls, especially when it’s just you mentoring a girl that wants to have the same career as you.”

Why doesn’t Ell just shoot you? That would be less painful. You swallow down all the guilt and nausea. Ell is looking at you like you’re everything, and you lie to her face, your voice a whisper.

“Cinnabon, I promise, I will never want anyone else--”

“Hey, guys, we’re--yeesh, sorry!” LaFontaine holds their hands up. “Uh...Mrs. Spielsdorf wanted me to find you guys because we’re trying to start mic checks.”

“Get in there, then,” you answer gruffly. LaFontaine leaves. Ell takes your hand.

“Come on, Carm, we’ve got a show to do.”

* * *

 

After mic checks, Mattie helping everyone with costumes, and everyone hugging Betty (Laura needed to have Mattie redo her makeup, she was crying so much), you have the kids all gather on the stage in a circle.

“So,” you clear your throat, “opening night. Kind of crazy. I feel like I started working at this school yesterday. Uh, first of all, I think we need to give Betty a round of applause for getting herself here tonight.”

Everyone claps. Betty gives a few mock bows. “Hey, come Hell or high water, I wasn’t going to miss the last show I worked on at Silas...even if it was only for a month.”

“Second of all...look, I’m not great with big, emotional speeches, and usually I would step back and have Ell do this for me, but I’m the director so I figure I should say something. This show has changed my life. I didn’t even want to do this, and I can’t even tell you how many times I wanted to quit. But, I’m glad I didn’t. Because you are some of the most talented, hardworking kids I have ever known. So...yeah. Let’s do a good show tonight. I’m going to stop talking now and leave the pre-show ritual to the seniors. Betty, did you still have the kids do husha?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay. Kirsch, choose a line from the show.”

Kirsch furrows his brow for a moment. “How about ‘why, it could be greased lightning!’”

The rest of the cast laughs, gets ready, and starts, shaking their legs.

“Husha!”

They all switch to their other leg.

“Husha!”

They all spin around in a circle. “‘Why it could be greased lightning!’” And then raised their fists in the air.

_“HUSHA!”_

“Now let’s have an AWESOME SHOW!” Ell shouts. Everyone cheers. “Now get in the back, the doors are going to open soon. And JP, can you turn up the air conditioning? It’s really hot in here.”

“Sure, Miss S!”

About five minutes later, while you’re helping Mattie do Perry’s hair backstage, JP walks in looking guilty.

“...Uh, Miss K? We kind of have a problem.”

“Wha?” you ask, holding bobby pins in your mouth as you move through Perry’s thick curls.

“The air conditioning is broken.”

“What?” you exclaim, spitting the bobby pins into your hand.

“I’m sorry! I tried everything, it’s just not working. I think it’s broken.”

“That is a problem, to say the least,” Mattie says. “We have boys wearing leather jackets and many kids are wearing several layers under their clothes.”

“Water. We need water. It’s, like, ninety degrees in here.” You look at Perry. “Perry, you were in charge of refreshments. Where did you put the water?”

“I didn’t bring water.”

“You brought _six_ trays of cupcakes and brownies to sell at intermission, and you forgot to bring some freakin’ _water and ice?”_

“Oh, Millie, calm down,” Mattie replies, rolling her eyes. “Here. Take my wallet and go buy a few cases of water.”

“Do you think I can make it back in time?”

“Why not? How long could it take?”

“And you’ll make sure--”

“We have Betty and your little blonde Barbie, Millie.” Mattie smiles, “I think I can handle them.”

“Ha ha, Mattie. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

* * *

 

So, it takes you a little longer than five minutes.

Who would have known that 7-11 is so popular on a Friday night? And the cashier is new at her job, and it takes her at least fifteen minutes to scan a coupon from the person in front of you. Eventually, you get so frustrated you throw a fistful of Mattie’s money at the cashier and run out, case of water in hand as she shouts at you.

You doubt she’ll stay mad once she takes a good look at the money. Mattie carries hundred-dollar bills in her wallet like they’re no big deal.

You sort of have to half-waddle, carrying this huge case of water in your hands, slamming your shoulder into the back entrance of the auditorium to get someone to open it. Ell and Betty open the door.

“Shit, my shoulder is going...to be sore...I had to run, but...did I make it?”

“Everyone is backstage and they’re about to start,” Ell says. “But, Laura has a few scenes, and she _really_ needs some water.”

You hand the case to Mattie along with her wallet. “What do you mean by that…?”

“She passed out,” Mattie informs you bluntly.

“She _passed out?”_

“JP saw the Juilliard rep walk in,” Betty explains, “or at least a guy with a clipboard, wearing a suit. I think it was a combination of the nerves and...well, the heatstroke. She’s awake now.”

“And a trainwreck, emotionally,” Mattie adds.

“You can imagine she’s not having the best time right now,” Ell finishes off weakly.

You grit your teeth, ripping open the plastic casing and grabbing a bottle. “You three, keep things quiet backstage. I’ll go into the dressing room and help Laura. Come get us when she needs to go on. _Go.”_

Even Mattie is listening to you at this point, and the three of them scramble. You head into the girls’ dressing room.

Laura is leaning against the wall, head bent so her chin touches her chest, eyes closed. There’s a small fan whirring gently in front of her.

You kneel next to her. “Hey, Laura.”

Laura opens her eyes and looks at you. “Miss Karnstein, hey. JP said he saw--”

“Yeah, I got filled in. You wanted him at opening night, right? Here. Mattie said you passed out, you feeling okay?”

You uncap the bottle and lift it gently against her lips. Laura swallows a few sips before she takes the bottle from your hands.

“Thanks. Yeah, I got kind of dizzy and I fell down. But Danny found me this fan, so I think I’ll be alright.”

“Good. Ready to go on?”

Laura’s face scrunches up. “Miss Karnstein, _I can’t.”_

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cupcake, of course you can--”

“No, I can’t! I feel sick. I’m dizzy, I just passed out from heatstroke, I’m nauseous...I’m going to blow it and disappoint everyone...my friends, my dad, my mom, Miss Schraeder, Mrs. Spielsdorf... _you._ I _can’t.”_

“Can’t.” You stand up. _“Can’t?_ Laura, get up.”

Laura looks up at you and slowly stands.

“Laura Hollis, since when was ‘can’t’ in your vocabulary? Did you say ‘I can’t’ when you decided you wanted to organize a Christmas party for me? Did you say ‘I can’t’ when you organized a clothing drive for the show? Did you let me say ‘I can’t’ when Betty quit and I needed to step up and direct the show? You are nervous, and it’s messing with your head. Snap out of it and do what you do best.”

“But--”

“And, as for that disappointment crap,” you continue, “your worst day is everyone else’s best day, no one who isn’t a professional is going to tell the difference. And if anyone is disappointed because you have to go to Carnegie instead of Juilliard...well, frankly, they’re douches. And _me?_ Laura, how could I ever be disappointed in one of the best, most amazing people I know?”

Laura needs a fraction of a second to take it all in. She smiles at you, her cheeks red from the heat. “...Is this the part where you start singing ‘Lullaby of Broadway?’ Because I don’t think we have time, so I’ll just skip to the part where I agree to do it.”

You grin. “That’s the Laura I kno--”

And Laura wraps her arms tightly around you, her cheek pressing into the side of your chest.

“Miss Karnstein...like you said this morning...you know.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“And you’re amazing, too.”

“Yeah. I know that, too.”

“You are unbelievable.”

It happens so quickly and impulsively that you don’t even think about it. But, your lips go down to kiss Laura on the top of the head softly. “Good luck, Cupcake.” You whisper, “Break a--”

Then, you see Ell walking into the room out of the corner of your eye.

“Ell,” you jump away from Laura quickly, staring at her. Laura looks like a deer caught in headlights.

“...Laura, you have about a minute to get onstage.”

“Miss Schraeder, thank you!” Laura squeaks. She looks at you for a fraction of a second before darting out, almost hitting Ell.

“Cinnabon, hey, how is--”

“Fine. It’s fine.”

“Good. Good. We can go watch in the audience, then?”

Betty runs in, too. “She made it!” Betty exclaims, “I had to practically shove her onto the stage, but she made it on time!”

“Thank _God._ Where is Mattie?”

“Keeping backstage quiet. I wish I met her sooner. I don’t know how they notice her death glare in the dark, but, as soon as they see it, they’re absolutely silent.”

“Good. We can go watch in the audience, then.”

“I’ll stay in here and make sure they don’t kill each other trying to get the water.”

“Sure, Betty. Whatever. Ell,” you try and take her hand. Ell turns away from you sharply.

“You know where we’re sitting,” Ell says, walking stiffly away at a fast clip. Betty looks at you, confused, while you run a hand through your hair and watch her leave.

 


	26. Chapter 26

Sitting next to Ell during the show is torture. Normally she’d be holding your hand, you’d have your arm around her-- _some kind_ of physical contact. Now, she has her hands folded stiffly in her lap, her eyes trained on the stage, purposefully not looking at you.

Yeah, this will be difficult to talk your way out of.

At least the show is _going_ well. Laura is doing fine. Better than fine--if you didn’t know she had passed out, you would have thought she felt great. Kirsch and Danny have never had better stage chemistry. The chorus is strong, everyone has a ton of energy.

And hey, the auditorium feels a lot cooler sitting next to Ell’s cold shoulder!

The kids all finish their dance for _We Go Together_ in their tableau, and the audience cheers. As the theater lights come back up, you look at Ell.

“Ell--”

She’s already gotten up to go into the dressing room. You sigh, give her a little space, and get up to follow.

“So, everyone was _fantastic!”_ you exclaim, clapping your hands together and looking at all the kids as they guzzle water and change into their costumes for the second act. You look at Betty. “Any problems back here?”

“Nope. The kids were fine.”

Sarah Jane knows how to play piano, and she entertains the cast by playing from the only music book they could find backstage; a book of Les Mis sheet music. The cast all start to assign parts for _One Day More._

“I call Eponine!” Danny exclaims.

“Danny, you _always_ get Eponine.”

“Laura, you were born to play Cosette, don’t even trying to deny it.”

“...Well, yeah, but we’re not putting on a production of Les Mis.”

“Hey, if Laura is Cosette, can I be Marius?” Will asks with a grin. You look at him.

“Wipe the smirk off, Cassanova.”

Ell looks at you from across the room. You run a hand through your hair again and walk over.

“Ell--”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“We _need_ to talk though. I’m trying to communicate, see?”

 _“Communicate?_ If you had been trying to communicate I wouldn’t have caught you.”

You look behind you nervously. Kirsch is belting Enjolras’s part of _One Day More_ and thankfully it blocks out this conversation.

“Ell, come on. I didn’t even do anything. She needed a hug, she was an emotional wreck. Not a big deal.”

“That was _not_ just a hug.”

“You’re seeing things, babe.”

“Oh, so now you’re gaslighting me?”

“I’m just saying you’re jumping to conclusions--”

“Jumping? _Jumping?_ This wasn’t a jump. I wouldn’t even call it a hop.”

“Look--I--you know what? Fine. You don’t want to talk to me, don’t talk to me. I’m getting some air.”

You walk out, jamming your hands in your pockets. You walk outside, leaning against the wall of the building and taking a deep breath.

“...Trouble in paradise, Millie?”

“Do you mind, Mattie?”

“Oh, come off it, I am your big sister. But, if you _don’t_ want one of these…” Mattie reached into her purse and pulled out a cigarette.

“Mattie, I quit.”

She gives you a look. Who are you kidding? You sigh and grab it, and Mattie gives you a lighter.

“Thanks, Mattie.”

“Now, as per the tradition of trading, you need to tell _me_ what is going on with your blonde beau.”

“What is going on?” you mumble.

“Oh, don’t even try that. She looks positively--”

“Carmilla, you out here?” Betty sticks her head out the door. “Oh, hey! Carmilla, is anything wrong? Ell’s been unusually...broody. I would expect it from you, but Ell? It’s just weird.”

You are, frankly, desperate. And having your sister and your mentor might actually help. You’re sure they’ll both tell you to get your shit together, which is just the push you’ll need to put this whole Laura thing to rest.

“Okay. Betty, Mattie, I need some advice.”

You tell them everything, including the incident in the dressing room right before the show.

Mattie speaks first.

“Well, Millie, frankly you need to get your shit together.”

“My God, Carm, your sister is right--”

“Just dump the blonde and date this girl already.”

“Wait, wait, what are you telling her?” Betty says, hands on hips, looking at your sister. “She should _not_ break up with Ell, are you _insane?”_

Okay, so much for this making you _less_ confused.

“Wait, Mattie... _what?”_

“You heard me,” Mattie asserts. “Dump her. It’s rather obvious that if this girl wasn’t your student, you’d probably be living together already.”

“She’s _eighteen_ , Mattie, what could they possibly have in common?”

“Millie has the mind of an old woman, Betty, that’s hardly an argument. By that logic, she frankly should die alone. As for what they have in common, how about wanting the same things?”

“Carmilla isn’t a teenager anymore, she can be happy in Silas--”

“Hardly. I know my sister. I personally had to fight tooth and nail to get out of this Hell hole and Carmilla got sucked back in like quicksand. She’ll never be happy here. The fact of the matter is that Ell and Carmilla threw away everything to be with each other, and now they’re desperate for their relationship to work or else Ell stopped talking to her parents for four years and Carmilla amassed massive student debt for nothing.”

“Uh, Betty, Mattie--”

 _“Stay out of this,”_ they both snap. Betty’s face is beet red.

“Mattie, if you really think Ell and Carmilla are going to throw away six years together, after everything they’ve been through, because Carmilla has a little crush on Laura--who, by the way, she could go to _jail_ for dating--it is wishful thinking on your part.”

“That is _precisely_ my point, that she’s only with Ell out of obligation!”

“Well, you know what? You barely see Carmilla since she was eighteen, then you waltz into her life and suppose that you know better than the woman who practically _raised_ Carmilla in high school, and saw her with Ell every day--”

“BETTY, MATTIE, _SHUT UP.”_

They stop. They’re still facing each other, fists clenched, but turn their heads toward you.

“You know what, guys? I talked to you both because I needed advice, but you,” you point at Betty, “are too invested in keeping your OTP alive. And _you,”_ you look at Mattie, “never liked Ell that much. So, you know what? Thanks, but no thanks. I don’t need your help.” You push past them.

“What are you going to do?” Betty asks.

“I’m _going_ to girl the Hell up and actually _talk_ about it with the people who matter.”

You leave Betty and Mattie outside, glaring daggers at each other.

The theater lights flash as soon as you enter and you head into the dressing room. “Okay, are you all ready to go on? High fives while you run out, come on!”

Even if your life is majorly sucking right now, that doesn’t mean you’re going to let the negative energy poison the kids.

Laura is the last one to leave; she looks at you before she walks out. “Miss Karnstein, are you--”

“If you want to help, channel your angst into _Hopelessly Devoted to You,_ alright? Hey,” you raise your hand, “high five, Laura. You forgot.”

Laura smiles softly and lightly taps your hand before running out. Ell is missing, probably already in her seat, you guess.

* * *

 

You’re wrong; Ell is _not_ in her seat. The rest of the second act is spent with you slouched in your chair, side-eyeing the empty seat next to you, waiting for Ell to come back.

She wouldn’t have left, would she have? That isn’t the type of person Ell is. Ell loves this cast--the cast loves her. She wouldn’t just walk out on the show.

On the other hand, the show is sold out (it’s a small auditorium and come on--it’s _Grease_ ), so if Ell isn’t sitting next to you and she wasn’t backstage when you were there, where the Hell is she?

You try and ignore it and pay attention to the show--which doesn’t really help, because now they’re doing the _Hand Jive,_ which means you’re staring at all of Ell’s best choreography. Will is flipping Cha-Cha all over the place and Danny and Kirsch, if anything, will need to tone it down a little next time. Laura’s _Hopelessly Devoted to You_ gets a standing ovation, which she deserves. She’d never connected with the song as much as she did tonight.

(You try not to think about why that might be.)

And _You’re the One That I Want_ \--you are really glad Ell isn’t sitting next to you during this song, because she’d probably notice you’re enjoying Laura in it a little too much.

You notice that, after the song is over, Kirsch and Danny are holding hands onstage. They never did that before. You are so ready to make fun of Danny for it later.

Of course, you’re the first person to stand at bows, and the rest of the audience follows. You realize that your eyes are tearing up slightly--not from sadness, or pride, or anything like that, but relief. You’ve done it. You have managed to survive at Silas and still find a way to do what you love. Even if it isn’t the way you had planned to.

You get up and go into the lobby where everyone is waiting for the cast to walk out in costume for pictures with family and friends. You’re distracted, and you bump into someone.

“Oof! Sorry!”

The guy turns around and looks down at you. “Oh, you’re the director aren’t you? I’m Laura’s father.”

_Oh._

You’d never spoken to Mr. Hollis in person; you’ve only seen him from a distance before this. He towers over you and he still looks kind of intimidating even with the jolly smile.

If he had a beard instead of a mustache, he might look like a young Kris Kringle.

“Well--nice to meet you, Mr. Hollis--”

“Please, call me Charlie!”

 _“--Charlie._ Very nice to meet you, Charlie. I’m sure Laura’s mentioned me?”

“She seems to think you’re one of the best directors she’s ever had. I can see why--it was really a quality production. Tracy would have been proud.”

“Well, thank you. It means a lot. And you should be proud of your daughter. I mean, she’s a hard worker. The best part of working on this show, to be honest.”

“Thank you! I’m _very_ proud, of course. And I think it’s great that Laura can have a mentor who’s as supportive as she’s described you as being.”

He claps you on the shoulder and your knees barely keep from buckling. _Oh boy, supportive. You have no idea…_

“Dad!” You jump back and narrowly avoid Laura as she hugs him. Her hand couldn’t even clutch her other hand as she wraps her arms around him. “What’d you think?”

“Fantastic! I was just telling your teacher how proud your mother would be.”

“Thanks, Dad--”

“Laura, Hollis?”

You’re sort of watching to the side now as an old man wearing a suit shakes Mr. Hollis’s hand and looks at Laura.

“Uh...yeah, I’m Laura Hollis.”

“I am Mr. Vordenberg. I am from the admissions office at--”

“Juilliard!” Laura squeaks. “Yeah, I know you. Definitely. I hope you liked the show.”

“May we discuss your performance somewhere more private?”

“Um, sure. Dad, is that okay?”

“It is fine if you would like to come, Mr. Hollis.”

He nods. They start to walk away and Laura catches your eye.

“Oh my God I can’t believe this is actually happening--”

“Do you really need a pep talk again, Laura? You were fantastic. If things get heavy, just grab his cane--”

_“What?”_

“I’m _kidding._ Good luck.”

Laura smiles, takes a breath, and runs after Mr. Vordenberg and her father. You look at the open doors to the auditorium.

She either left, or she’s hiding somewhere. You have a feeling you know where.

You take a deep breath and go to find Ell.

 

 


	27. Chapter 27

You poke your head over the top of the ladder and, sure enough, there’s Ell, laying on her side, curled up like a cat on the couch.

“Uh...hey, Cinnabon,” you say gently, “may I join?”

Ell’s eyes look at you, but she doesn’t move. Finally, she shifts so she’s sitting up, giving you silent permission.

“Thanks,” you reply, sitting down next to her, hands clutching the edge of the couch. “So. Uh...good show, huh?”

She shrugs.

“...Okay. Look, Ell, I know what you saw must have looked... _friendly,_ but I swear, there is nothing--”

“Did you have feelings for her before or after I came back?” Ell whispers, looking down at the floor.

“Ell, I don’t--”

“I’m not an idiot, Carmilla,” Ell snaps. Her head turns sharply and you’re suddenly staring into her eyes. “I saw the way you were looking at her. I know that look. You’ve given me that look for six years.”

As you stare into her eyes, icy, slightly red from crying, you realize you can’t lie to her anymore.

“...After,” you answer, “I started having feelings for Laura after you came back.”

Ell presses her hands into her thighs, so hard that you think they might have bruises later. “I was afraid you would say that.”

“Ell, I--”

“I tried to date in New York. I couldn’t do it. Even _thinking_ about it made me sick.”

“Christ, Ell,” you respond, clasping your hands together, “do you think I’m happy about this? _Proud_ of this? She’s one of my _students._ But, Ell, I would never do anything. You know me well enough to know I would never cheat on you. We--we can fix this,” you take Ell’s hands in your own, _“I_ can fix this. Laura is going to leave for college, I can keep my distance, once she’s gone I won’t even think about her anymore--”

“This _isn’t_ just about Laura.”

“What else?”

Ell shifts so she’s facing you. “Carmilla, you hate it here. You’ve made the best of it, but you _hate_ it here. You want Broadway and I want to teach some dance classes. How can that work?”

“I can learn to like it here…” You answer weakly. 

Ell shakes her head. Her hands go up in the air, her fingers curling in frustration. “You don’t _understand._ Carmilla, I can’t do that to you. Maybe you could force yourself to live here and forget about Laura. But, I know you, and I know that you’ll be settling, and I’d always be the anchor that kept you stuck. And I’m not going to do that. I couldn’t live with that guilt. You...you deserve _better.”_

You’re shocked into silence. Ell tucks a strand of blond hair behind her ear. She bites her lip, takes a breath, and whispers softly:

“...Look at me and tell me that you would be happy here for the rest of your life, Carm. That you wouldn’t regret never trying New York again. If you can tell me that, right now, I’ll take it all back.”

You try. You think of Ell, and Silas. Your mother. Betty. All the shit you’ve gotten from the other teachers.

New York. Having to work as a waitress and a bartender. Times Square at night, bathed in perpetual light. Walking down Broadway, smiling and imagining your name on one of the marquees. You hang your head.

“I can’t. But, Ell, I swear it has nothing to do with Laura. I don’t fit in here. I never will. That doesn’t make me a better person, Hell, maybe it makes me worse, but you’re right. I can’t expect all of that to evaporate because I love you.”

Ell hangs her head, as well. “I thought I did everything I was supposed to.”

“You did, Ell. This isn’t your fault.”

“I said I was sorry, I didn’t push you--you asked _me_ to meet you at Lola’s, _you_ kissed  _me_ \--and then I blamed myself for everything that happened--”

“I know, Ell--”

“No, you don’t know,” Ell snaps. “You _don’t_ know. You may have hated it here, but I had friends. I had friends and a great family and I dumped all of it. For you. And I messed up, and I have done everything right to fix it, _by your own admission,_ and now I have to face the truth, that it’s still not enough--and--and--” And Ell finally breaks down. It isn’t loud; she doesn’t make any noise at all. Her face contorts as tears begin sliding down her face. You watch her silently, a hand hovering just above her back. “I’m--I’m sorry. I didn’t--it’s _too much pressure.”_ She wipes her eyes, breath coming in short puffs. You expect her to recoil, but you finally put your hand lightly on her back.

“...It was too much pressure,” Ell repeats. “For both of us. It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” you agree. “Ell, you deserve someone who wants everything you want. What you want--you know, it isn’t unreasonable, it’s just not _me.”_

For a moment, Ell doesn’t say anything, calming her breathing. “...Carmilla?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I should go home.”

You blink. “Oh. Right. So, this is…?”

Ell smiles wistfully as she stands. She puts a hand under your chin and, softly, she presses her lips to yours.

“Goodbye, Kitten.”

She’s down the ladder and you’re left alone, sitting on the couch in the dark of the loft. You don’t know how long it is before another head pokes over the ledge.

“Miss Karnstein!” Laura chirps, scrambling up, “You won’t believe it! Well, I mean, you kept saying I’d be fine, but _still!”_

She sits next to you and you instinctively lean back a little to avoid her flailing hands; it’s a habit you’ve picked up with Laura.

Fuck, Mattie is right, you’re like an old married couple.

“Mr. Vordenberg said I had ‘great energy’ and that I was a ‘diamond in the rough’--the point is, I’ve got an audition at the school! If I don’t screw it up, I’m in! _I made it!”_

“That’s great,” you manage to choke out, “I’m really proud of you, Laura.”

“And I couldn’t have done it without you! We’re all going to Applebee’s to celebrate opening night. We’re all going to get half-priced appetizers and Kirsch and Will are probably going to see who can finish a plate of nachos the fastest--you’re coming, right?”

Laura keeps smiling until she notices your posture. “Um...are you alright?”

“Eventually.”

Laura rubs the back of her head. “Do you want me to get Miss Schraeder to talk to you, or--”

You can’t take it anymore. Your face is in your hands as you cry and leave poor Laura shocked and confused.

“O-okay. I’m going to guess that she’s the problem. Hey,” Laura hesitantly reaches out to touch your shoulder. You let her, and she gets a little bolder, wrapping an arm around you. “Miss Karnstein-- _Carmilla._ It’ll be okay. I promise. Want to talk about it…?” You shake your head. Laura bites her lip.

You don’t understand why it hurts so much more than last time. This breakup is surprisingly amicable and, more importantly, _mutual._

But, unlike last time, this is also final. You feel it in your bones in a way you didn’t the last time. That kiss is the last you will ever have with her. It’s over. Knowing it’s the right decision doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Did you mention that Laura saying your name feels strangely nice? She’s struggling to find something to say.

“...Miss Karnstein, have I ever told you about the last time the cast went to Applebee’s? Come on, I’ll tell you on the way out.”

You wipe your eyes with your sleeve as you follow her down the ladder.

“...So, then LaF thought it’d be _hilarious_ if we reenacted _La Vie Bohème_ in the restaurant, but, when they jumped on the table, they hit the edge of my nachos and they went flying! I mean, we probably would have been kicked out anyway, we were making so much noise, but still.”

You try to smile. Laura faces you in the lobby. “Is she coming?”

“I don’t think she is.”

“Good. You shouldn’t have to feel awkward at your own opening night celebration. Look,” Laura gestures vaguely with her hands, “I...was it me? Because of us? I can talk to her, I can tell her there isn’t anything--”

“Laura, don’t. Really. This would have been over eventually, with or without you.”

She looks down at the floor. “I just...I hate seeing you unhappy. Can’t I do _something?”_

She looks so earnest as she looks back at you that you smile. “Laura, be happy we broke up sooner than later. As for what _you_ can do,” you put a hand on her upper arm, “you can start by finishing that story. Who got hit with the nachos?”

Laura looks down at your hand on her arm as you lead her towards the doors. “Well...Mrs. Spielsdorf ducked, right? But, the waiter was right behind her. And, I swear, we went from singing in five-part harmony to _dead silence.”_

As you walk out into the parking lot, your hand drifts away from her arm. “Thanks, Laura. I’ll see you there.”

“I’m just happy you’re smiling. And, um, for what it’s worth,” she continues, “I think you could fix things. If you really want to. You’re just so amazing and--”

“Well, thanks. But, I don’t think I want to. Especially not if...if I like someone else.”

Laura stares at you as you walk past her and get into your car.


	28. Chapter 28

You go to Applebee’s with the cast, sit with Mattie, and order entire plates of quesadillas and nachos, inhaling everything. Your goal is to get so sick from food that you can’t even think about drinking. Mattie, of course, is appalled.

“Millie, _chew_ and _swallow_ before you put more food in your mouth.”

“Leave me alone, Mattie, I’m not having the best day--”

“Oh, _please._ That girl is nothing to cry over.”

“I’m not crying. I’m eating.”

Laura is laughing and singing with all of her friends, but she occasionally glances at you. You try to ignore her.

“Carmilla, why don’t you sit with your friends?”

“They’re not my friends, they’re my students.”

“Even Laura--”

“Shh!” You put a finger to Mattie’s lips. “Say it a little louder? I don’t think the police station heard it.”

Mattie leans in. “You want to avoid jail? Then you need _closure.”_

“What do you mean, ‘closure’?”

“I mean, if you keep pretending you and Laura are platonic, you’re going to end up having sex on your desk.”

“Okay, first of all, what the fuck? And, second of all, why can I not get this through your head? If I date her while she’s my student, I can GO TO JAIL.”

“I am _not_ saying to date her. I am saying that this is eating you alive. What happened to ‘girling the hell up’ and talking about it?”

“I’m not being eaten alive--” You look down at your hand. You had been drumming your fingers right in your nachos. You wrinkle your nose and use a napkin to clean the cheese off of your fingers.

“...Okay. So maybe it is making me a little edgy. But, what do I tell her?”

“The truth?”

“Oh, how poetic, Mattie. You should write screenplays,” you respond, rolling your eyes.

“Am I _wrong?_ Well?”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

 _“No,_ you’re not wrong,” you grumble.

At the table, you see Laura waving her hands as the rest of the cast sings _You’re the One That I Want_ for the waitress. It looks like they are trying to score free food or something.

Of all the people in the world to have a crush on...just _why?_

* * *

 

After the last show seems as good a time as any.

JP leaves the tech booth (seemingly for the first time, as far as Carmilla can remember) to hand out flowers to all of the seniors. You watch from the audience as Will, Kirsch, Perry, LaF, and Danny all line up at the front of the stage, holding bouquets. Laura grabs the mic from JP when he is done.

“Okay, now I want to present this next gift. We may have done all of the dancing, singing, and acting, but we could have never done it without our fantastic director. So, Miss Karnstein, we got you this.”

You get up, embarrassed, as the cast unveils a poster of Grease with all of their names signed on it with messages.

“Uh...thanks, guys.”

You hug Laura.

“We have one for Miss Schraeder, but Mrs. Spielsdorf told me your mom didn’t know,” Laura whispers.

“She’ll love it,” you reply, which you’re guessing, since you haven’t spoken to Ell in two days, and probably won’t for the rest of your life.

The audience is _finally_ dismissed; Theo walks in and starts the set breakdown. The cast party is pretty lame. You buy some chips, pizza, and a cake. Betty had pitched in and bought some Subway sandwiches. But, you barely make enough money as it is. You’re not going to spend it on a party.

Danny and Kirsch sit together, cross-legged on the floor, swapping sandwiches and pizza slices, having some sort of conversation about the Giants (you never watch sports so it’s honestly a guess) while trading bites. You sit in the back, alone.

Of course, Laura doesn’t let you.

“There a reason you’re not joining your friends, Cupcake?”

“And watch Kirsch and Danny be all lovey-dovey while Will flirts with me?” Laura scrunched her nose, picking the green peppers off her Veggie Delite sub. “No thanks.”

“Still, it looks kind of... _weird_ for us to be eating together. Alone, I mean.”

Laura looks at you. “I mean--I guess, but--okay, I know this is a minefield, but what happened on opening night…”

You feel like you’ve put Laura through enough, so you let her keep talking.

“I mean, I know this could, um, never happen and I’m probably imagining things, but when you said you ‘liked someone else’...you know…” Laura smiles sheepishly, pointing to herself. You sigh.

“Look,” you whisper, leaning in slightly so the others won’t hear. They are too busy unscrewing the backdrop (in between eating all the food) to pay attention to the two of you anyway, but you can’t be too careful. “Laura, you’re not crazy. I _do_ like you.”

“You mean, like a gal pal…?”

“No. Like--like Angie Martinelli and Peggy Carter.”

You figure Laura will definitely understand that.

Laura looks like she’s celebrating Christmas, her birthday, and the Tony Awards all at once. “I _knew_ it!”

“Tone it down a little, Cupcake?”

“Sorry, Miss Karnstein. Or, like, Carmilla. Can I call you that now? It feels weird to call you ‘Miss Karnstein’ when we both like each other.”

“Uh…sure.” You haven’t actually thought about that and it catches you off guard. You say ‘sure’ before you realize it might not be a good idea, considering there is a pretty huge _‘but’_ you’re about to throw in. _“That_...Laura, I like you, but you know how bad an idea this would be, right? It’s illegal. I’m your teacher. And, besides, you’re not even out yet. I’m not going to put pressure on your to do that before you’re ready. You need to focus on your audition for Juilliard--when is that, by the way?”

Laura is taking all of this with a surprising amount of calm. “I’m going with my dad to New York tomorrow and I’ll be back by Monday. I’d kind of be a last minute admission so I’m going as soon as possible.”

“Good. You need to focus on your career. You’re eighteen. And you have _no idea_ how much I wish I didn’t have to say this.”

Once again, you wait for the disappointment to register on her face. Instead, it looks more like gears are turning in her head. “So, the reasons we could never be a thing are because you are my teacher, and you wouldn’t want being in a relationship with you to put pressure on me to be out before I’m ready.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That’s the gist of it.”

Laura smiles. “Okay. Thank you for telling me--I thought I was going crazy or something, thinking you might like me.”

You both look at each other for a moment before Laura clears her throat. “Um--I should probably go back to my friends. Thanks again...Carmilla.”

Laura gets up. So, she’ll be gone for an entire week on vacation. Right before the end of the year. Great.

* * *

 

The moment Laura gets back from New York, she marches right into your room and doesn’t even say a word; she only leans in over your desk and hugs you.

“I’m leaving a couple of weeks after school ends,” Laura divulges, “for freshman orientation, getting settled everything. I can’t believe it!”

You don’t even care that she has left the door open. You grin. “Oh my God, Laura, you are going to tear up Broadway. I can feel it.”

“Thank you, thank you, _thank you.”_ She pulls away, crossing her arms. “Are you going to be at graduation?”

“Graduation?”

“Yeah. You know, it’d mean a lot to me, and after I leave for school I won’t...you know.”

You do know. Laura will be gone. You’ll be reduced to the occasional catching up on home visits. Exactly what you know has to happen, but that doesn’t make it suck any less. You keep the smile plastered on your face, though. This is good for Laura, and you’re going to be happy for her.

“I wouldn’t miss it, Cupcake. I’ll see you there.”

* * *

 

The rest of the year is mind-numbingly boring. You and Laura get the occasional chat in between classes and in the morning, but, for the most part, she seems to be taking your advice. There hasn’t been another conversation about what you said to her at the set breakdown. She has started wearing ‘New York’ merchandise you assume she had gotten from the week she spent there. On the last day of school, she’s wearing an oversized hoodie that reads _New York State of Mind._

“You’re definitely going to be there, right?” she asks.

“You keep asking me that. I wouldn’t miss it, Cupcake.”

“Good. Also, about my finals…”

You grin. “Technically I’m not supposed to say...best grade in the class. You are officially over me.”

Laura shakes her head, stuffing her hands in the front pockets of the hoodie. “Well, I mean, if you want it to mean that. As long as you’re at graduation--”

“God, what’s with the obsession with me being there?” you ask with a laugh.

Laura just shrugs innocently, whistling, doing a little spin before she saunters out of your room.

Which brings you to June 6th, sitting in the back of the auditorium, listening to the same speech your mother had given your class four years ago.

“...And so, as our students attempt to navigate the labyrinth of life, we hope the lessons they’ve learned will keep them from being slain along the way. Thank you, and good luck, class of 2015.”

Newsflash: just because the school mascot is the Minotaur, doesn’t mean that that analogy is clever.

You sleep through the diplomas being handed out. You wake up when they announce who the valedictorian is.

It’s no surprise that it’s Danny. You may not have always liked her, but she is one of the smartest people you know. Laura has only beaten her on finals by one point.

She grabs the edges of the podium, looking confident, not even glancing down at her speech.

“So, we all want to go home, so I’m keeping this speech short.”

All the kids sitting onstage clap and Danny grins.

“...Thanks, guys, I try. So, the most important thing for success is to challenge your worldview. It’s no secret that I’m a person who has opinions, a lot of them, and I tend to not change them easily. This year, especially, was one that showed me I needed to change that. Who knew that a guy I literally gave a black eye to on the football field in November would end up being...well...a friend. And a genuinely great guy.”

Kirsch gives a thumbs up.

“And, when I was a freshman, I met a girl who everyone else thought was fragile and an emotional wreck. But, _she_ ended up being one of the strongest, bravest people I’ve ever met...”

Laura smiles. You see her fidgeting with the tassel on her graduation cap.

Danny continues with her speech. It’s not a bad speech. Nothing special, either. Mostly you’re impressed that she has it memorized. She takes a pause, and everyone thinks she’s finished--

“...Also, one last thing. My best friend, Laura Hollis, is also gay.” Danny gives a thumbs up, “Stay classy, Silas!”

Danny goes back to her seat and high fives Laura.

What. The _Hell._ Just happened.

There’s a ripple of murmurs in the crowd and your mother looks absolutely pissed. She quiets everyone and invites them to the cafeteria for food and drinks.

As you follow the sea of humanity out into the caf, you almost feel numb. What is Danny doing? What is Laura doing? She had high fived her. Obviously, they are both in on it.

So, Laura just came out, with Danny’s help, in spectacular fashion in front of the entire school. Which you are not going to let pass without comment. Your eyes scan the room while you munch on some homemade brownies.

“Carmilla?”

You turn. “Mother. Hi.”

She is standing stiffly in front of you, arms folded behind her back. “So, you’ve managed to last a year at Silas. I wanted to say congratulations.”

“Really?”

She looks awkward. “Yes. While I don’t approve of your lifestyle, even I can recognize that putting on a production without any experience is...well, it gives me hope that one day you can put that intelligence to good use. I am certainly not disappointed.”

In hindsight, it’s kind of pathetic that you’re touched by this, but who cares? It’s the nicest thing she’s said to you in years. “Thanks, Mom.”

Mother rubs your hair in the closest thing she has to an affectionate way. “You are welcome, my glittering girl. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with Miss Lawrence and Miss Hollis. That speech... _wholly_ inappropriate. Derailing a graduation like that.” She turns on her heel and walks away. The crowd gets smaller and smaller until you realize that Laura isn’t in there anymore. She must have left.

You sigh, walking out of the school again, heading toward your car--

“Miss Karnstein, _wait!”_

You turn.

Running in heels, hitching up her graduation gown, and holding her cap on her head, Laura looks absolutely ridiculous as she runs out of the school to catch up to you. When she stops, she’s panting. “I...had to give your mom the slip...Danny helped me... _whew…”_

“Laura, ten seconds to breathe?”

Laura takes some more deep breaths, then grins. “So...what did you think of Danny’s speech?”

“I don’t know what to think. How was the, uh, reaction?”

“Well, obviously, LaF was no judgement, and Perry, too,” Laura informs you. “And my dad...I mean, I never thought he wasn’t going to accept me, I was just afraid he was going to start asking a bunch of questions, you know? He was surprisingly cool about it. I mean, it’s been great. I wish I did it sooner.”

“How long has Danny…?”

“About a few weeks?” She takes off her cap, running a hand through her hair. “So...you are no longer my teacher. I just exploded out of the closet with a glitter bomb. What now?”

“Laura, I told you I didn’t want to pressure you--”

“You didn’t. I _chose_ to come out, Carmilla. I wanted to. I wouldn’t call you pressure, I would call you…” Laura bites her lip until her face lights up, _“Inspiration._ Incredible, fantastic inspiration. Because I knew that, with that out of the way, you’d have no reason to tell me I couldn’t do _this.”_

Laura drops her graduation cap to the ground and closes the distance between the two of you. She stares at you for a moment, and you try and stifle a laugh.

“Are you--you’re _laughing?”_

You burst into giggles. “No, no, Laura, I’m sorry--”

“I’m trying to be _romantic,_ and you’re _laughing.”_

“No! Not at you, it’s just that you’re trying so hard to be all serious and intense. It’s cute.”

“I am not trying to be cute. I’m trying to be sexy.” Laura grabbed her cap and pushed it back down on her head. Her tassel fell into her eyes and she batted it away. 

You put a hand on her cheek. “Well, you’re not. You’re cute. I like cute.”

You are _so fucking tired._ Tired of trying to be noble, tired of constantly trying to be better, tired of pretending this isn’t something you’ve wanted. And now she’s here and you can’t go to jail for it, and, at this point, you don’t even have the strength to question if it’s a good idea.

Her mouth fits perfectly over yours and you wonder how you could have ever fought this, how you could have ever thought you wanted to kiss anyone else _but_ Laura.

Ell had felt good, but Laura feels right.

You pull her closer to you, and you keep kissing her, as though this is thanks for everything: the Christmas party, the clothing drive, the dance after rehearsal, what she had said about you to her mother at the cemetery. Laura makes a small whimper in her throat, and that finally snaps you out of it.

“Laura, as much as I would like to continue this conversation, I do not want to be seen making out with you less than an hour after you stopped being a student at Silas. I can call you--”

“Oh _no._ You think I’m just going to leave after I get what I’ve wanted since, like, November? Not happening.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you propose we do? People are leaving  the school soon.”

“Well...nothing. Unless someone _happens_ to have a friend that your dad thinks you’re going to go out with to celebrate graduating...and unless someone _happens,”_ and here Laura taps your hip gently where a ring of keys is poking out of your pocket, “to have keys to the auditorium where no one is.”

“So, you want to lie to your dad?”

“So that I can kiss you? Fair trade off. I think I’ve been more than patient.”

You grin. Laura will really be the death of you. “Come on,” you grab Laura’s hand, ducking behind some bushes when parents and students start filing out, covering Laura’s mouth to stop her laughing. You take the keys to the auditorium out, getting up and unlocking the back door.

“After you.”

 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, this chapter and then the epilogue to go! It's been one heck of a ride, guys. :)

You lock the door to the auditorium as soon as it closes behind the two of you; you walk up and sit on the stage. Laura sits next to you. Your legs are dangling off the edge as you snake an arm around Laura’s waist and pull her in again silently.

“Do you want to talk in the loft?” Laura asks, your lips just inches from hers. “In case anyone else has a key…”

“The loft?” You smirk, “I don’t think we’re ready for the couch, Cupcake.”

Laura blushes scarlet red. “Uh...wow, um...right.”

You feel bad. You shouldn’t be making Laura nervous.

“Hey. Laura.” You brush some hair out of her face. “I know how overwhelming this could be, now that you’ve gone from just being gay to taking the, ahem, _practical exam.”_

(You’d never admit it, but the first time you kissed Ell, you almost threw up.)

Laura smiles. “The only reason I should be nervous is if I’m _failing_ that exam.”

“At the moment, you’re passing with flying colors,” you inform her. You kiss her again, and you’re not worried about being seen, so you take your time. You’re the only one with a key. Laura responds enthusiastically, clutching the back of your head in her hand.

“...I think it’s really nice that we’re in here, don’t you?” Laura asks.

“Mmm. Why?”

Laura moves until she’s leaning back against your chest. “It’s where I first really talked to you. It’s where I realized I had a crush on you. It’s where I fell for you, basically. It’s special.”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” you agree, “although I think I was falling for you ever since that stupid Christmas party at my apartment.”

Laura takes your hands and settles them around her, on her stomach.

“Wow, someone is being forward, Cupcake,” you joke.

“Hey, just because I was your student doesn’t mean I’m going to be all shy all the time. Especially since, you know, I’ve literally _dreamed_ about this.”

You frown. Your fingers curl and uncurl on Laura’s stomach. “Laura, you don’t think that’s what I’m doing, do you?”

“What?”

“You know. Seducing you because I thought I could take advantage of being your teacher.”

“What? No! Of course not. That was just a joke.” Laura shifts so that she’s sort of on her side, so you can see her face. “Look, is it a little intimidating to know you’re older and you’ve had all this life experience, living in New York and going to NYU and everything? Kind of. A little. _And_ I did have front row seats to you and Ell being all ‘cute’ at rehearsals.”

“Hmmm,” you mumble; one hand inches up to Laura’s hair, massaging her scalp.

 _“But,_ I also know that this has to mean something,” Laura continued, tilting her head up and capturing your lips again, “I mean, how can it not? If you wanted to take advantage of me, you wouldn’t have waited until I graduated. But, here we are...less than half an hour afterward, but still.”

“You are fantastic,” you answer, not really as a response to what she is saying, but it still seems appropriate. “You shouldn’t be intimidated, anyway. I’m...you know, I still don’t understand what you like about me. I’m nothing like you.”

Laura muses the question for a moment before a grin spreads across her face. “You really want to know?”

“Um, in spite of that look, yes.”

“I like...’your swagger and your bearing and the just right clothes you’re wearing…’”

“Laura, _seriously?”_ you ask with a laugh. “Come on.”

“...your black hair and your leather pants and your lace up boots…”

“I mean it, Cupcake, not everything needs to be a musical theater reference.”

She stops, placing a hand on your thigh. _“Fine._ But, come on, you’re even wearing a ring of keys.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that then,” you concede, kissing Laura on the cheek.

“The first thing I’m doing when I go to New York is seeing _Fun Home._ Or _King and I._ No offense, but I would break up with you tomorrow for Kelli O’Hara.”

Your hand stops its movements in Laura’s hair, and she notices you stiffen.

“Carm, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“No, something is. Come on.”

“It’s just...you’re going to New York, when?”

“In two weeks,” Laura replies, excited, before she realizes what that means. “Oh my God, I will be gone in _two weeks,”_ she groans, her head hitting your chest again. “Oh, crap.”

‘Oh crap’ is right. “Laura, I’m so sorry. I know this _sucks.”_

“Yeah, it’s going to be a pain having to talk to you over Skype until, like, Christmas.”

“Wait, what?”

Laura shifts once again; now she’s on her knees, facing you head on. You have to scooch back to give her room. “Carmilla, we’re dating now, aren’t we? I’m not breaking up with you.”

“Laura--”

“I am already not liking that tone.”

“What ‘tone’?”

“That ‘I am going to be the adult’ tone. You didn’t use it outside when I kissed you. Why are you using it now?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you claim, which is the truth. “I was so focused on _this_ that I forgot that you were leaving. Laura, you’re eighteen. And you just came out. You should be having fun in college, not tying yourself down to a girl a hundred miles away.”

“No.” Laura shakes her head. “Carmilla, I don’t care if I have to Skype you every day for months at a time. I don’t care. I don’t want to _experiment_. I want a _girlfriend._ I want _you.”_

She takes off her cap again and you can see, as some of the gown rides up her thighs, that she’s wearing a red dress underneath. You really want to see the rest of... _no._ Focus. God, why do you have to do this?

“Laura, I care about you…”

Right. _That_ was why. You care about Laura more than you want her.

“...too much to let you make the same mistake I did with Ell. Don’t put all your eggs in this basket, Cupcake. You’re too young.”

“Young?” Laura gets up, standing over you. _“Young?”_

Oh, and now she’s pacing and scrunching her fingers. Wow. You had gone from kissing her to activating tiny-ball-of-rage mode.

“Carmilla, I am about to drive to New York and start college for theater at Juilliard. I am one small town girl among probably _hundreds_ that have been told they’re talented, that have been told they can make it, and only, like, one percent of us are actually going to do it. Point one percent of us will get real parts.”

You want to interject, but she’s on a roll.

“This is the biggest decision I have ever made. I’m taking a risk, a _huge_ risk. The biggest of my life.”

“...Your point?”

“If everyone expects me--including you--to make a decision about this when I’m eighteen, why can’t you trust me to know who I want to be with when I’m eighteen?”

“Because--because--look, _I_ don’t want to mess this up, alright? I’ve already done it once. I can’t go through that again. I took a perfectly nice, beautiful human being who could have loved so many other people and made her waste six years of her life on me--”

You stop. What is it with Laura bringing this out in you? Laura’s angry gaze softens.

“She didn’t waste it, Carm. You’re amazing. I had no idea--”

“That I’m a drunk, depressed mess? Well, sometimes I am. I’m not nearly as put together when I’m not in a classroom or running a rehearsal. How are you going to deal with that?”

“I...I…”

“Right. You won’t have to, because you’ll be in New York and I’ll be here.”

You’re sitting with your knees clutched to your chest. You’ve been with her for less than an hour and you’ve already fucked up.

“Look at me, Carmilla. Come on, take my hand and get up.”

You look up at Laura and take her hand. She pulls you up and you face each other.

“Come with me, Carmilla.”

_“What?”_

“Come with me. To New York. I want to show you how much you’ve changed since last time. You want to go, I’m going, why not? We don’t even have to, like, live together or anything--”

“Laura, I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Student loans? Massive debt? Ring any bells? I can’t afford the move, do you have any idea how expensive an apartment in the city is?”

“Maybe you can.” Laura inquires, “Isn’t your sister loaded or something?”

“‘Hey, Mattie, can I have a shit-ton of cash so I can move to New York with my new girlfriend?’” You mimic Mattie’s voice, yours getting slightly deeper, “‘Of course, sis! I will totally give you the money, no strings attached, because I’m totally not manipulative at all!’” You raise an eyebrow. If anything, now Laura is even more determined. She grabs your hips and pulls you in close, and you let her.

“I’m hearing everything you just said. And I don’t care.”

“Cupcake--”

 _“I don’t care._ I will make you a deal. If you break up with me, right now, I will respect that. I’m not a stalker. But, you seem like you’re trying to convince me to end things and not doing it yourself. So, go ahead. It’s up to you.”

The words form in the back of your throat. But, Laura is right. The best thing that’s happened to you in months is standing in front of you and you can’t just throw it away.

“You know what, shut the fuck up and kiss me,” you respond, crashing your lips against Laura’s again.

“But Carm, what about--”

“We’ll worry about it later.”

Laura nods and starts kissing you again, running her hands up and down your sides, like she doesn’t know where to put them. It tickles slightly and you push Laura even closer to you until she cups her hands behind your head--

_“What the Hell?”_

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you growl, pushing Laura away and turning around. “How did you get in here, Betty? The door is locked.”

Betty walks down the aisle and up to you, hands pushed into the pockets of her denim jacket. “I never got rid of my key,” she admits, “I couldn’t. I came to see my last class graduate and I thought I’d stop in before I left in the morning. You know, for old time’s sake.” She looks at Laura. “Hey, kid. Congrats on coming out.”

“Did you hear about what Danny did...?”

“No, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out when you just had your tongue shoved in Carmilla’s mouth.”

“I did _not,”_ Laura denies, face flushed. She looks at you. “Carm, wipe that smirk off your face!”

You try and keep the smile from creeping up again.

“So...Carmilla, _please_ tell me this is only kind of ethically gray and not out-and-out illegal?”

“This has been a thing for about forty-five minutes.”

“Good. I was not looking forward to having to call the cops.”

Her expression is indiscernible. Laura smiles sheepishly. “Um, Mrs. Spielsdorf, you won’t tell anyone, right?”

“I’m not your teacher anymore, Laura. And Carmilla. Not my place to say anything. As for what I think of it…” She sighs. “I don’t know. It’s not exactly ideal. But, seriously, guys, you should go home. Laura, please go wherever your dad thinks you are. The last thing I want is for someone to find out that _doesn’t_ believe Carmilla. Okay?”

Laura looks at you. You brush some hair out of her face, kissing her forehead.

“I will call you. I promise. And I’ll text you my Skype. How about it?”

“I think that’d be awesome,” Laura agrees, giving you a quick kiss on the nose before taking her stuff and dragging her feet out the door.

“You both are so adorable I want to throw up,” Betty announces. You put your head in your hand.

“Look, Betty, there’s an expiration date on this, anyway. She’s moving in two weeks. Do you need to give me shit about it? I know she’s not Ell--”

“That is _not_ why I’m not jumping for joy right now, Carm.” Betty crosses her arms. “You could get in serious trouble for this. At the very least, you’ll get fired. Have you got a game plan for that?”

“Other than Laura’s _brilliant_ suggestion that I pack up and use Mattie’s money to move back, no,” you answer dryly.

Betty looks up at the ceiling, then back down. She sighs. “You should go.”

“You of all people should know how much I don’t want to borrow money from anyone in my family. I love Mattie, but she is her mother’s daughter.”

“Carmilla, I said it before, and I’ll say it again. You are like--no, you _are_ my daughter. I want you to be happy. And you’re not happy here. You deserve a second chance.”

“I wasn’t exactly happy in New York, either.”

“Things could be different.”

 _“How?_ What is different? You and Laura keep saying I’ve ‘changed’--Laura didn’t even know me before this year. You never visited me in New York. How do you know I won’t end up--”

“A miserable, irritated ball of apathy and broodiness?”

“Yes. That.”

“Then, I don’t. But I do know that if you stay here, that is inevitable, whereas in New York at least you’ve got a shot.”

She’s right. She’s very right. Here is safe, and secure, and miserable. Laura is unpredictable, uncertain, and possibly the best decision you’ll ever make.

Or the worst. It’s a lottery with the world’s highest stakes.

You rub your temples. “What if I fuck up again, Betty? I can’t do that.”

“If you do, you deal with it. You’re a fighter, Carm.” Betty grins. “You take after me. Oh, also: I will make the decision for you...”

Betty punched some numbers into her cell phone. “Hello, Mattie?”

“Betty, what the fuck are you doing?”

“We swapped numbers, your sister is awesome. Sorry, Mattie, your sister is here and she wants to ask you something. Hold on.” She holds the phone out to you. “Carmilla, either you ask or I will tell her what you want to ask.”

You glare at her. “You won’t let me not do this, will you?”

“You know she’ll say yes, come on. One more thing, though.”

“What?”

“Laura is a wonderful kid. Her mom was a good friend of mine. Don’t be _her_ mistake, alright? I have faith that you won’t.”

You reach for the phone. “Betty, I promise. I’ll try.”

She smiles. “Skype me when you get to New York.”

“...Thanks. I will. And you make a pretty good mom, right down to the micro managing of my life.” Your stomach feels like a ball of lead as you put the phone to your ear. “Heeey, Mattie. Have I mentioned your new fashion line looks fabulous? _Fine._ I need some money. No, we’re not in the Twilight Zone. _No,_ you also should not be calling a doctor for me. Look, are you going to listen to me or not…”

You bicker with Mattie on the phone, Betty looking at you with a self-satisfied smile.

 


	30. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over! Thank you all for following this fic.

The drive from Nebraska to New York is twenty-two hours, according to Google, so you and Laura start early.

Your apartment is easy; one advantage of being dirt poor is not having a lot of furniture to bring on a move. Most of the stuff ends up being Laura’s, and she strains to carry a large box from her house into the moving van.

“Here, Laura, let me help.” You grab the box. With a grunt you heft it into the van. “That the last box?”

Laura wipes her hands on her jeans, looking at the pile of stuff. “Let’s see...your couch, your dresser, _my_ dresser, my bed--”

“You know there’ll be a bed at your dorm, right?”

“You know I won’t let my girlfriend sleep on a futon when I have a bed I’m not going to use, right?”

You smile, pulling Laura in and giving her a quick kiss. “I think I remember a box in your room. I’ll go get it.”

“I can--”

“I know, but I want to. Go ahead, Laura. I’ll meet you in the car, okay?”

“Alright...good luck with my dad.”

You look out of the corner of your eye, where Mr. Hollis is staring at you through the window.

“Thanks.”

You put your hands in your pockets and walk inside, keeping your head bowed. “Mr. Hollis, sir.”

He had told you when you had met him opening night to call him ‘Charlie’, but now he isn’t exactly ‘friendly’ or ‘likes you’.

In fact, he kind of calls the cops on you the moment Laura admits she is dating you.

(They couldn’t do anything but ask you some questions, but they had looked _really_ disappointed that you weren’t in handcuffs.)

But, hey, it was better than Mother calling you a pervert and throwing a plate at you.

“Carmilla. Leaving yet?”

“Just getting the last box, sir.”

You try and walk past him, but he grabs your arm. It isn’t hard, it isn’t tight, but he’s very large and doesn’t like you. You turn and he lets go.

“Carmilla, I want to reiterate my concerns about this relationship.”

You remember having this exact conversation with Ell’s father, and that is the last thing you want to think about. “I’m sure you do.”

“I don’t believe that you really waited. If I find out that you broke my little girl’s heart…”

“I won’t. But, you don’t believe me anyway, so I’m going to pick up this last box.” You turn and walk up the stairs.

Okay, so you’re not the best with parents, but the sooner you get on the road, the better.

You head into Laura’s room. There’s faded marks on the wall where her posters used to be. You see the last box.

Before you pick it up, you look at the bedroom window. You walk over to it and see Laura standing outside, waiting in the backyard. You open it.

“Hey, Laura!”

Startled, she looks up. “Carm, hey, you got that box?”

“Yeah, I do! Why aren’t you by the car?”

“I don’t know, I pace when I’m nervous, you know that!”

“Nervous? _Nervous?_ We’re about to live in New York City! How can you be nervous?” you shout down to her. Laura starts laughing.

“Who are you and what happened to my broody girlfriend?”

 _“You_ happened,” you exclaim before you can stop yourself, then put a hand over your mouth and speak through your fingers, “and, God, you’re right, I think I might be brainwashed.”

“Just grab the box so we can go! My poor dad looks like he’s about to cry or kidnap me. Or both.”

You close the window and grab the box, walking back down the stairs. As soon as you walk into the kitchen on the way out the door, you freeze.

Mr. Hollis is sitting at the kitchen table. With Ell. She’s speaking in quiet, low tones, and Mr. Hollis nods and smiles. You clear your throat.

“Oh.” Ell scrambles to her feet and looks at you. “Hello, Carmilla.”

“What are you doing here?” you ask.

You’re surprised that you’re not feeling...you’re not actually sure how you expected to feel if you saw her again. Anger, resentment, sadness? But, there’s none of that, now.

“Ell was just telling me about you,” Mr. Hollis says. “She would make an excellent used car salesman.”

You force a little chuckle at that. The box is heavy and you put it on the table. “Well, at least she’s telling you good things.”

“A lot of good things,” Ell adds, “and about how good I think you are for Laura. Speaking from, you know, experience.”

Mr. Hollis smiles at Ell. Figures. Ell could make a jump in a volcano sound like a dip in a hot spring.

“Carmilla?” Mr. Hollis asks.

“Yeah, sir?”

He gets up. “So...you’ll both be going now, then.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll be driving?”

“Yes.”

“And if you get too tired--”

“I already booked a hotel for the night--separate beds,” you add hastily. Mr. Hollis raises an eyebrow.

“Good. Good. And...well…” he claps a hand on your shoulder. You stumble a little from the weight. “Good luck to you, Carmilla. Take care of Laura for me, alright?”

“Of course.”

Ell gets up from her seat. “Carmilla, let me get that box.”

“That’s alright--”

“No, please, I insist.”

The box _is_ kind of heavy. You walk out, Ell following behind you. You both stand on Laura’s front porch, looking at each other awkwardly.

“So, New York, huh? I heard from Betty. She told me you were leaving today and, um...I couldn’t let you leave without saying goodbye. And good luck.”

Her eyes aren’t quite as bright as you remember them, her once long, flowing blond hair now cut to a bob that curls just above her shoulders. Ell has changed too, you realize. Maybe just as much as you have.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Ell,” you reply. “You’ve been apologizing for months, but _I_ never said I was sorry. But, I am.”

“Thank you,” Ell responds softly, looking down before asking, “do you think we could have ever worked out? In New York? If we had talked, if we had done something different...”

Your mouth quirks to the side. “...Maybe,” you answer. “But, not now. Not anymore.”

And, it’s true. You don’t feel like you’re talking to your former lover, now. Your feelings for Ell are of an old friend. Ell smiles.

“I don’t think so, either. I signed for a lease on a building. It’s in a little strip mall next to a Dunkin’ Donuts, but I got my studio. And, hopefully, I can take over the theater program, too. I know it will mean groveling to your mother, but I would hate for the program to end because they don’t have a director.”

“Ell, that’s fantastic. You’re going to be great teacher.” You’re not even lying. You have a feeling that, for a lot of kids, Ell is going to be their Betty or their Mrs. Summers.

“Thank you.”

There’s an awkward silence as you both start walking again. Ell puts the box in the back of the truck. “There. That’s the last of it?”

“Yeah. As soon as Laura comes back out we’re gone.”

“Great...okay. Listen. There’s one more thing I wanted to do before you left.”

Ell closes her eyes and, slowly, unclasps her necklace that holds the promise ring. She holds it out to you. “Here. Take it.”

“Ell, that was a gift for you. I can’t.”

“It was a promise ring, Carmilla. We both made promises when you gave it to me, and we both broke them. I don’t deserve it. Besides...I’m trying to start over. So are you. This ring is part of my past.”

“If it’s about broken promises, then I don’t deserve it either.”

Firmly, Ell presses the ring into your palm.

“Then, give it to Laura.”

You look down at your hand, then back at Ell. “Someone else is going to be very happy with you, Cinnabon.”

You close your hand and take the ring back.

“Hey, Carm, are you--oh.” Laura stops, eyeing Ell suspiciously. “Ell. Hey. What are you doing here…?”

“Just saying goodbye. Have fun at Juilliard, Laura. You’ll do great.”

Laura raises her eyebrows. “Um, thanks. Carm, you ready?”

“Get in the car, babe, be there in a second.”

Laura drags her feet, but walks.

“You know, Ell, this past year you’ve always shown up when I least want you to.”

She frowns. “I’m sorry, I know I should have left--”

 _“And,_ you always ended up being a good thing in the end.” You clap Ell on the shoulder. “Keep in touch, Cinnabon.”

You walk away and leave Ell alone. She smiles before starting the walk back home.

“So, what was that about?” Laura asks when you slip into the driver’s seat.

“Eh, nothing. Wanted to wish me luck. And give me this.” You hold up the ring.

“Oh my God, that thing was yours?”

“Two year anniversary.”

Laura eyes it. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Dunno. Pawn it? Then again, it’s not exactly high quality. It’s a promise ring, not an engagement ring.”

Laura bites her lip. “It’s pretty.”

You smile. “Here, babe.”

“Are you sure? You waited two _years_ to give that to Ell.”

“Yeah, well, I want all those hot girls you’ll be performing with to know you’re taken,” you explain, slipping the chain over Laura’s head.

Laura smiles softly, twirling the ring in her fingers. “Hey! I made a mix CD just for the ride.” Laura pops it into the CD player. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

You smile, leaning in and giving Laura a soft kiss on the lips. Laura cradles your head in one hand gently before pulling away.

“Drive now, smooching later,” Laura announces. You roll your eyes, lean back, and start driving.

“Hey, look at the sign! ‘You are now leaving Silas’,” Laura reads, pressing her face against the glass. “Carm, see? You made it out. We both did.”

You watch Laura out of the corner of your eye, waving at the sign as it passes, eyes full of hope for the future. Her face reminds you of yours when you had driven off on your motorcycle with Ell four years ago.

And, hey--maybe this won’t be any better than last time. Maybe, by this time next year, you’ll end up back at Silas with Laura. Or back at Silas alone.

But, there _is_ a difference. Now, you realize that you don’t need to be on Broadway to be successful. You have helped a lot of kids just by being a highschool director. And what’s wrong with that?

You turn the volume up. ‘Seasons of Love’ starts playing on Laura’s CD. You put an arm around your girlfriend, playing with the ring on her necklace, as you both look at the highway ahead of you, holding promises for the future.

Promises that--maybe--you’ll be able to keep this time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow those-magic-changes.tumblr.com for deleted scenes, updates, and news about the story! Hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> And follow marzo2theletter.tumblr.com for other hollstein drabbles!


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